


Find Yourself In Another Part Of The World

by toffeecape



Series: Loser Tag [1]
Category: Temeraire - Naomi Novik, Yu-Gi-Oh!
Genre: Alternate Universe, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Asexuality Spectrum, Background Het, Bad Flirting, Ballet, Birth Defects, Blindshipping, Burns, Children, Come Eating, Complex Politics Oversimplified, Conspiracy, Courtship, Crossover, Dirty Talk, Dragons, Eggs, Eventual Smut, Extortion, Fake Business Practices, Fake Science, Fictional Religion & Theology, First Kiss, Foster Care, Gang Violence, Genocide, Glasses, Google Translate abuse, Guns, High School, Homelessness, Horny Teenagers, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Imprinting, Islam, Kidnapping, Kissing, Laser Tag, M/M, Modern Royalty, Monotheism, Multifaith household, Multiple Religion & Lore Sources, Muslim Character, Mutual Masturbation, Mutual Pining, Not Canon Compliant, Oral Sex, Orphans, Pining, Police, Polytheism, Prayer, Puzzleshipping, References to Drugs, Service Top, Sexual Harassment, Slow Burn, Swearing, Switching, Teen Romance, The AU no one asked for, Trauma, Unresolved Romantic Tension, Variations on Ancient Egyptian Religion, Whump, auditions, hijab, ladies wearing the pants, taboos
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-01
Updated: 2018-09-07
Packaged: 2019-05-31 19:21:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 21
Words: 60,698
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15126197
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/toffeecape/pseuds/toffeecape
Summary: Bigger guns and faster planes have largely supplanted military dragon aviation, but 'dueling' with infrared guns remains a popular sport among both humans and dragons, especially in Domino City, Japan - so much so that one young man comes a very long way to train with the best. Little does he know he will find much more than he expected...Rejected titles: Amenhotep II Is A Little Bitch, Falafel Burger, More Like LOSER Tag Amirite?!





	1. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Whoever said "Never meet your heroes" probably didn't have this reason in mind.

_-Domino High, 2016-_

“Homeroom is ending early today.” Mr. Tannin waited for the cheers to die down, then continued, “The tenth grade has a special outing planned for this afternoon, to the harbor. There we will welcome two heavyweight dragons visiting from overseas; one of them is partnered with a human who will be joining our class. Human students with dragon partners are permitted to fly alone to the harbor, if they notify their teachers beforehand for headcount. From the harbor you are free to go for the day.”

“Two heavyweights!” Yugi said as the class headed out to Domino High’s open-air pavilion. “I’ve never seen a carrier ship that big!”

“I have,” bragged Bakura. “They mostly come and go at night, when there’s less traffic for them to hold up.”

“And what are you doing skulking around the docks at night, Bakura?” said Téa.

Bakura waggled his eyebrows. “Being bad, baby.”

_“Ugh.”_

They reached the pavilion, and Joey shouted, “Hey, Tristan! Did you hear on the feed? We’re goin’ down to the harbor and then we get the afternoon off!”

Tristan was sunning himself next to Gandora. They both clambered to their feet as he said, “We did hear, but Ryou told us about it even before that.” He nodded to the brown-and-white Sui-Riu coiled in the shade - only middleweight-sized at present; he must have offloaded all his water for the walk to the school.

“What!” Bakura exclaimed. “How the hell did you know, old man?”

Ryou said primly, “As your foster parent, I am informed of all irregularities in your schedule to ensure your safety.”

Bakura deflated. “Fuck, I forgot.”

“Language. Come, let us go greet these newcomers. There’s an exciting rumour about them I’ve not shared with the others; if you behave I’ll tell you.”

Grumbling under his breath, Bakura climbed up Ryou’s forelimb and perched in front of his wingless shoulders. Gandora and Tristan stood respectfully back from the elder dragon (and the hazard of his long tail - even without taking on water he was over two hundred feet) as he straightened himself out and trotted off in the direction of the harbor.

Yugi grinned at Joey. “Wanna race?”

“You know it!”

“Middleweight mutt versus _mutant_ middleweight mutt, the showdown of the century,” sneered Seto Kaiba.

Gandora flexed her neck, bulging the electrical nodes that ran in rows down either side. “I seem to recall us mutts wiping the floor with _you_ , Kaiba.”

“They _did_ outmatch us in the last tournament, Seto dear,” Kisara murmured, not looking up from tapping numbers with her claws into her KaibaCorp tablet. The fold-out keyboard and holographic display were custom-made for her heavyweight dimensions and cost a fortune; Gandora had raved enviously about it to Yugi more than once.

“That’s right!” said Joey. “Me and Yug’, Tristan and Gandora - the only competitors on our level are each other!”

“In duelling, maybe,” laughed Kujaku, trotting up with Téa already mounted. “But in a flat-out race, _real_ athletes have you beat.”

Téa covered her face with her palm. “Don’t encourage them.”

“I’m not encouraging them; I’m challenging them.” She preened her feathered wings (she was part Yupanqui, and she never let anyone forget it) with her talons, which gleamed turquoise - Téa must have painted them recently. “Unless you’re scared to compete with a couple of little dancers like us?”

Gandora jerked up her snout. “You’re on, Kujaku. Get up here, Yugi!”

As the only disinterested party, Kisara was pressed into calling out, “On your marks, get set, go!” Kujaku shot up into the sky, taking an early lead with her small mass and proportionately huge wings. Gandora and Tristan gained both height and speed more slowly, even flapping so hard Yugi and Joey had to cling to their harnesses. By the time they cleared the treetops Kujaku was already shrinking in the distance with a taunting flick of her tailfeathers.

“This _might_ be a battle of the Red-Eyes Blacks for second place after all,” Yugi yelled over the beating of leathery wings.

“Then let’s put on a good show for everybody stuck on the bus,” Joey shouted back. Today’s bus was a pair of oversized Shen-Lungs, loaded down with every human in the tenth grade who didn’t have a personal ride. They were only now flapping sedately clear of the trees, just behind Kisara.

Yugi faced forward again. “Go, Gandora!”

“I’m _going,”_ Gandora protested, but surged ahead of Tristan anyway. Yugi bent low against her neck, the wind whipping tears from his eyes. Distantly, he could hear Joey egging Tristan on.

Tristan had the advantage in a flat-out sprint.  Gandora’s nodes were a dueling game-changer when fitted with infrared lenses, but they also made her slightly less aerodynamic. By the time they caught up with Kujaku, Tristan was edging ahead.

 _“Finally,_ it gets interesting,” Kujaku drawled. Folding her wings, she executed a dizzying somersault (Téa screaming all the way) that ended in between Gandora and Tristan, forcing both of them to veer away.

“You’re insane!” Joey shouted.

Kujaku laughed a tinkling laugh and darted ahead again. Téa could be heard scolding her, “That was _not_ cool, Kujaku! You-” before she became inaudible.

“Oh!” Gandora fumed. “She frightened Téa! Now we _must_ beat her!” She redoubled her efforts, and in short order they passed Kujaku (Téa appeared to still be lecturing her) and burst past the ‘finish line’ of the waterfront.

“Yeahhh!” Yugi cheered as they did a victory loop.

“Damn, Gandora, where did that come from?” said Joey. “Looks like you need to do some wind sprints, Tristan my man.”

“Or you need to lay off the burgers,” Tristan retorted.

They settled onto the docks. Kujaku landed not long after. Téa didn’t even wait for her to touch down, leaping gracefully from her perch and nailing an Olympic landing. “My dance partner has something to say,” she announced with folded arms.

Kujaku looked down and muttered, “I’m sorry for cheating by trying to cause a crash. It was dangerous to all of us.”

“Well, no harm done, right?” said Yugi. He looked at the others. “Right?”

Tristan relented with, “If you’re that desperate for a challenge, I need to train on the obstacle course north of town tomorrow. Meet me there at six.”

“In the _morning?”_ Kujaku exclaimed. Téa shot her a glare and she hastily said, “Yes, of course, I’ll be there.”

Ryou and Bakura arrived at the same time as most of the remaining airborne dragons, Ryou having shifted up to a gallop. Despite the greenish cast to his skin, Bakura’s smug smile indicated he’d gotten Ryou to spill the beans.

 _“I_ know who’s coming i-iinn,” he sang as soon as Ryou halted, dismounting and spreading his arms like a showman despite clearly being too motion-sick to walk straight. “You’re all going to lose your entire shit.” Ryou closed his eyes briefly in dismay.

“I guess we’ll find out in a minute,” Yugi said. “Look, a carrier’s clearing the jetties now.” It looked like a toy at this distance; any smaller ship would look like a speck. Domino Bay was really big.

Joey squinted. “Is it a dragon carrier though? I don’t see sea cans on deck, but I don’t see dragons either.”

“That’s because they’re in the air, look up!” said Gandora. Sure enough, two winged shapes could be seen wheeling in the air over the ship. Like the ship, they had to be huge to have any discernable form at all from so far away.

The two dragons banked towards each other and then apart, as if they’d signalled each other. One started to climb, and the other approached the shore, becoming more visible as they drew closer.

“Yep, that’s a heavyweight,” said Kujaku, “look how slow they’re flapping.”

“Look how _red_ they are!” said Téa. The approaching dragon was indeed bright red.

“Are they a Scarlet Flower?” Yugi asked. “A Regal Copper? A _Kazilik?”_

Bakura rocked on his heels. “No, no, and no,” he chortled.  

Tristan lifted his neck straight up in astonishment. “Their head: that dragon has two mouths!”

 _“What?”_ cried Joey. “Holy shit, you’re right!” Sure enough, there was a clear double set of jaws, stacked vertically over one another, both gaping in friendly greeting at the crowd on the docks.

“It’s an incredibly unlikely form of partial dicephaly,” Ryou commented, “splitting along the horizontal plane instead of the vertical one.”

Even Kisara was staring now, forgetting to appear bored. “I’ve only ever heard of a single case of such a condition, at least in a dragonet that survived to adulthood,” she said. “As unlikely as it seems, that has to be-”

“Slifer!” Bakura blurted out at last. As if on cue, Slifer veered to face the bay and roared across it. The two mouths created a harmonic resonance that rattled Yugi’s teeth in their sockets, even directed away from them.

Kaiba frowned. “Isn’t Slifer’s captain Mahaad Sahir?”

“I think so,” Yugi said, vaguely recalling some articles he’d skimmed. “Why?”

“Because he’s affiliated with-”

“No way,” declared Gandora. “No _way.”_

“What?” asked Yugi.

“It can’t be,” she said. Slifer’s roar must have been a signal, because the second dragon was now flying in. They were difficult to visualize; at first Yugi thought they were white, then yellow. Then he realized they were, in fact, a metallic gold so mirror-bright they almost couldn’t be looked at directly in full sunlight. “It _is,”_ Gandora said, her voice shaking with excitement, “that’s a Tunin-Ra!”

 _“What?”_ Yugi said again, simultaneously with Joey this time.

Téa frowned. “What’s that?”

Joey answered, “Only one of the rarest dragons in the world! There’s only ever one at a time, and that one is the Pharaoh of Egypt.”  

“Actually,” said Ryou, “half the time there are two. Each one shares her first century with her parthenogenetic clone-mother, and her fourth and final century with her clone-daughter. Since the Pharaoh never leaves Egypt, this new guest must be Princess Mana, and our new human exchange student must be her Rafiq Al’Amira-”

“-Atem Sennen,” Yugi finished, his face feeling strangely numb. _This_ information he had _no_ trouble recalling. His collection of news clippings about both the Princess and her captain only needed spreading out on a wall to look like a crazed shrine.

“Yugi?” Gandora said carefully. “Is Bakura right? Are you going to lose your entire shit? Because I think I might.”

“Keep it together, girl. They don’t need us freaking out all over them. Just be cool. We’ll give them a nice, friendly, Domino City welcome, treat them like regular people.”

“That’s the stupidest thing I ever heard,” said Kaiba.  

* * *

“Mahaad,” Atem said in Coptic, “why is there a Japanese version of my cousin Seth being weird at me?”

“I think he’s wealthy,” said Mahaad in the same language, “it’s called networking. I don’t know why he looks exactly like Seth, though.”

“It’s creepy,” Mana complained. “Make him stop.”

Atem cleared his throat and said in Japanese, “Thank you - Kaiba was it? But I don’t represent my lady mother or Her Majesty the Pharaoh on this visit, only myself and Her Highness, Princess Mana.”

“And I would much prefer,” said Mana, “to be addressed as Mana for the duration of our stay.” She pitched her voice intending to be heard by everyone; since she already accomplished that by speaking in a normal tone, projecting with intent she was all but deafening. “We are here to study in Japan and hone our duelling skills, not to represent the Crown in any official capacity.”

Mahaad twitched visibly with the effort of holding back a lecture in Arabic about how Mana _always_ represented the Crown, just as Atem represented her, and Mahaad and Slifer represented Atem. Mana had thrown in that ‘official capacity’ bit specifically to mollify him.

“Come, Slifer,” said Mana, “let us go meet everyone.”

“Then can we go find a bank?” asked Slifer. Mahaad and Atem had limited both dragons to a single daily report by smartphone on the state of their finances, and they were itching to inspect their accounts in detail after the long sea journey.

Mana gaped a smile at him. “That is one of the things we will learn by meeting everyone.” They went forth to mingle, leaving Kaiba spluttering something about knowing where the bank was.

“You’ll have to forgive Mana,” said Atem. “she’s always keen to take the measure of a crowd.”

“They’re _high school students.”_

Atem frowned. “So am I. So are you, for that matter.”

Kaiba waved a dismissive hand, like this was a technicality. He held a briefcase in his other hand. He was even odder than Seth, and that was saying something.

“Alright Seth- er, Kaiba, it was nice to meet you, but I can’t fall behind Mana on introductions. I’ll see you at school.” He and Mahaad brushed past Kaiba onto the docks proper, and Atem started exchanging bows and names with his new classmates, the kind of scripted pleasantries Mother had drilled into him by the age of ten.

When he caught up to Mana and got a second look at the dragons she was talking to, he stopped dead in his tracks.

“You’re Gandora!” Mana exclaimed. “I didn’t recognize you at first without your lens array! And that must make _you_ Tristan!”

“You know us?” Gandora said. Tristan said nothing but leaned heavily against her, like he might fall flat on his face with shock otherwise.

 _“Know_ you! We nearly expired watching the stream of you and your captains taking the junior national championship last year! Speaking of captains, are you they?” she crouched down in front of a pair of boys, one tow-headed and the other…

“You must be Joey Wheeler, and you _have_ to be Yugi Mutou. Oh, how exciting!”

“We’re pretty excited to meet you too!” Yugi Mutou’s voice was higher than Atem had expected, warmer. Atem had studied photos and videos of him - all in the service of becoming a better duelist, of course - but they failed to capture the sparkle in his eyes or the brightness of his smile.

“Goodness, Yugi, you look so _much_ like my Atem. Atem, come over here and say hello!”

Atem shuffled a few steps closer before he forgot how to walk again. He could feel that his eyes were huge. “Uh.”

Slifer tilted his head. “Atem? Is everything alright?”

Mahaad stared at him. “Oh, no.”

Stiffly, Atem raised one hand. “Hi.”

Mana tsked and said in Coptic, “I bet you wish you’d worn your crown _now.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TEMERAIRE PRIMER FOR YUGIOH FANS: Humanity shares the earth with sentient dragons. Due to intense possessive instincts, most dragons form closer emotional bonds with ‘their’ humans than with other dragons. [Learn more here](https://toffeecape.tumblr.com/post/174827551437/redrikki-i-just-finished-re-reading-the), or better yet go read the books. 
> 
> YUGIOH PRIMER FOR TEMERAIRE FANS: Teenagers play Calvinball with trading cards, and get possessed by ghosts sometimes. One of the ghosts (Atem/Yami/Pharaoh) is friendly, and in love with his host (Yugi). [Learn more here.](https://toffeecape.tumblr.com/post/174827275587/marshmallonphobia) No ghosts or cards in this story though, just lasertag on dragonback.
> 
> * * *
> 
> 1\. pavilion: A residence or shelter for one dragon or a small group of dragons, comparable to a house in function, though not in design. Most high school "pavilions" are as deserving of the name as cafeteria "food", which is to say not very. 
> 
> 2\. Rafiq Al'Amira: "Princess's Companion"
> 
> 3\. *deep breathing into a paper bag* We're doing this! This is my first time posting a true WIP. My plan is to post a new chapter every time I complete two new chapters (yes, that means there is a second complete chapter already waiting in the wings as we speak). I hope you will all bear with me, and if you have any words of encouragement please share them, either here in the comments or [on my tumblr](https://toffeecape.tumblr.com/). This is an even more ambitious story than the other big one I've done, and it will need all the midwifery it can get. 
> 
> 4\. Currently my Arabic partner is Google Translate. I'm sticking to phrases that are stable forwards and backwards, but if you see something wildly amiss, I implore you to tell me so I can fix it.
> 
> 5\. The title is from the song Once In A Lifetime by the Talking Heads.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Atem met Mana it was a foregone conclusion.

_-Luxor, 2008-_

“Lord Atem, wake up.”

“Mahaad?” Atem blinked fuzzily up at the shape of his friend, hard to make out in the dimness. “Am I late for school?”

“Atem, it’s time.” Mahaad’s voice quivered with excitement. “The Princess is hatching.”

“Oh my gosh!” Atem leapt to his feet and promptly fell out of the bed, legs tangled in his sheets. Mahaad caught him without even a grunt of effort; he was tall for fourteen, and Atem was exceptionally short for eight.

“Get dressed,” Mahaad said, “make sure to wear all your jewelry.”

Atem struggled into clean trousers and a short sleeved shirt, letting Mahaad help him with his stacked gold chokers. He went to choose a pair of wrist cuffs and looked up at Mahaad.

“She might not choose me,” he said.

“Of course she will. The Pharaoh has advised her to.”

“She only chooses as advised about half the time. We’ve all spoken to her. She might choose you.” He selected his largest, shiniest gold cuffs and pressed them into Mahaad’s hands. “She should know that’s okay too.”

“Milord, I cannot-”

“Mahaad. Put them on.” While Mahaad reluctantly complied, Atem took advantage of his distraction to fasten a broad usekh necklace behind his neck.

“Atem, no!”

“I have two. I can’t wear both.” He held his own in place and turned away. They were both of the style that required a second person to put on or take off. “Now you will look the part if she chooses you.”

“You shouldn’t say such things,” Mahaad chided as he closed Atem’s fastening. “By sunrise you will be Rafiq Al’Amira.”

Atem put on his largest, flashiest earrings. “And if I am, there is a very good chance Mother will suggest you as the next Rafiq Almalika, and my family will serve yours for a hundred years.” He swept his hair back and jammed his diadem over his forehead, letting his bangs fall down over it. After a moment's consideration, he put on his glasses as well. 

 _“Stop_ that!” Mahaad snapped in exasperation. “Setting aside the utter madness of the Pharaoh choosing a Muslim for her next companion-”

“She’s done it before-”

“-I don’t _want_ to be Rafiq Almalika. I want to work with you.”

Atem grinned up at his friend. “Then we shall have to attach you to a dragon of _some_ sort, to make you ineligible.” He snatched up his gift for the Princess and hurried out the door. “If not the Princess, perhaps one of Muhra’s experiments. I hear she has invited a Lung Tien to visit from China. Imagine what _that_ cross might look like if it took.”

“You are incorrigible,” Mahaad muttered as they jogged down the hall to meet Mahaad’s parents. Atem’s mother, of course, had been sleeping at Karnak for the last week to guard the egg from the media frenzy, and his father with her, but Atem had to stay at Mahaad’s house so as not to miss school.

Mahaad’s mother’s eyes crinkled behind her going-out veil. “Good morning, Lord Atem. Are you excited?”

“Yes ma’am, very much,” he said.

She turned to her son and her eyes widened. “Mahaad, what on earth are you wearing!”

“Atem commanded me to wear them, Mother,” Mahaad said miserably.

“That’s right,” Atem piped up, “in case the Princess chooses him.” Earnestly, he added, “Mother and Her Majesty would be cross with me if I allowed him to attend under-adorned.”

“It is good to help a boy obey his mother, Israa,” Mahaad’s father pointed out.

She sighed. “Very well. But I pray the dragonet obeys _her_ mother and chooses Atem!”

They hurried the boys outside the house, where Iskender was waiting. The ancient Akhal-Teke knelt low against the pavement.

“Lord Atem Sennen, young Master Mahaad Sahir, Lady Israa Sahir, Lord Zameel Sahir,” he rumbled, “Her Majesty the Pharaoh Tunin-Ra the Sixteenth, and Rafiq Almalika Kema Sennen, request and require your presences at Karnak for the hatching of Princess Tunin-Ra the Seventeenth. All lies well below; please climb aboard.” He raised one wing to expose the ladder of his harness.

Iskender was wearing a luxury travel harness, with belted seating and weatherproof blankets (bolted to the harness at the corners) for six. They clipped into the five-point harnesses, Atem checking everyone and then clipping in himself, across from Mahaad and beside Mahaad’s mother.

“All lies well above, Iskender,” Atem called.

“Lifting off.” Iskender rose into the air, flapping his great wings. The passengers lurched and bounced in their harnesses, hanging on for dear life, and then they were aloft and speeding over Luxor. The boys whooped, Mahaad’s mother laughed, and Mahaad’s father kept a white-knuckled grip on his armrests and breathed hard through his nose, swallowing frequently.  

The straight flight got them to Karnak in less than twenty minutes. Behind them in the city, Atem thought he could already make out a change in the flow of headlights, the beginning of a surge toward the ancient covert. Royal dragons were aloft in formation, maintaining a perimeter, but the camera flashes and searchlights of dragon crews from the media were already visible just beyond the reach of their patrol grid. Atem’s hair and diadem, grainy in the dark through a telephoto lens, were probably already popping up on news websites. He wished for a moment that he could get away with a full veil like Mahaad’s mother.

Under the travel blanket that covered them both, she gripped his hand tightly. “Whatever happens next,” she said into his ear, “know that your parents are already, and will remain, _very_ proud of you, Atem.”

He swallowed hard. “Thank you, ma’am.”

Iskender landed, folded his wings, and said, “Safe to disembark.”

Atem freed himself and clambered down the ladder. He took a deep breath, squared his shoulders, and walked past the bowing guards into the Temple of Ra.

“There you are, Atem!” Mother rushed over. She crouched down and hugged him, taking a deep sniff at the crook of his neck. “How I’ve missed my boy this week.”

“Where is Father?”

“Just taking a walk. All the tension is getting to him.” She leaned back and looked him over critically, smoothed his windblown hair, then produced a tube of eyeliner from somewhere in her robes and plucked his glasses off his face. “Hold still.”

“Aw, Mama, everyone can see!”

“Then you should have had Mahaad or Israa put it on you back at the house.” Her fingers were gentle as they pulled his eyelids flat and swiped the eyeliner on, lines of smooth coolness, then replaced his glasses. “There. Now you look ready.” She took him by the hand and led him to the east wall of the temple, which today was fully opened onto the ancient pavilion. Within it lay the Pharaoh, golden head resting on her front feet just inside the temple walls.

Amber eyes bigger than Atem’s head regarded him with interest. “Good morning, egg.”

“Good morning, Your Majesty.” Carefully, Atem recited in Old Kemetic, “We rejoice at the birth of your self-created scion.”

“Very nice. And thank you.”

Unable to contain his excitement any longer, Atem started bouncing on his toes. “Oh, Muhra! This is amazing! How is she? How many cracks are there in the shell? Has she poked any parts out yet?”

Muhra’s low, bubbling sound of amusement was more felt than heard. She inclined her massive head towards the centre of the temple. “See for yourself. I believe Master Shimon is cutting up a lamb to entice her with the smell, so it won’t be long now.”

Mother laid her hands on Muhra’s snout, speaking quietly with her as Atem raced toward the dais where the egg sat. It was the first egg to sit there in three hundred years, fitting the carved depression perfectly, just like all the Tunin-Ra eggs before it over the last five thousand years.

For months it had lain in a nest in Atem’s family’s house within the Pharaoh’s personal pavilion, exposed to the chatter of their daily lives so that the dragonet might get a head start on Coptic, Arabic, and English. A special skylight had warmed it with the light of the sun during the day, and at night it had been Atem’s job to cover it with electric blankets, checking that they were plugged in and working, neither too hot nor too cold.

It had not been his job, but he had taken it upon himself to read aloud to the egg after he tucked it in, the way Mother often read to Muhra. He read it all his favorite books, and when he could get ahold of them he read from duelling magazines, relaying breathless descriptions of tournament matches, describing the photos of dragons twisting and swooping, their captains and crews brandishing their infrared rifles as they tried to tag their opponents.

There was no soft, warm nest today; the cold stone was deliberately a bit uncomfortable, intended to compound the dragonet’s cramped boredom and induce her to break free. It was working.

“Mahaad!” Atem shouted. “Come quick! Look at these cracks!”

Mahaad hurried over, along with the half-dozen other children and youths deemed suitable ‘eggs to grow up with my egg’ by the Pharaoh. All of them had visited the house regularly, telling the egg stories from their lives or whatever else was on their minds, so that the Princess might recognize their voices today.

“You can see the cracks spreading,” Mahaad said, his voice hushed with wonder. “She’s pushing hard.”

It had to be a difficult task. The heavyweight shell was thick, and the energy of the yolk was all but gone.

“You can do it, Princess!” Atem called. “There’s nothing for you in there, and everything out here!”

“There are people who want to meet you,” said Ishizu Ishtar, “humans and dragons.”

“There is art to make,” said her brother Odion.

“There is treasure to collect,” said her other brother, Marik.

“There are books to read,” said Atem’s cousin, Seth. (They were all cousins to each other, but Seth was literally his cousin; his father was Uncle Aknadin.)

“There is food,” said Covert Master Shimon, setting a bucket down with a clank. The meat and organs of a freshly-slaughtered yearling lamb steamed inside, sloshing about in its own blood. Atem saw Mahaad swallow and look away; he hated lamb at all times, but more important was the blood. While  _halal liltananin_ , it was  _haram lilbashar_. There was a difficult moment in Mahaad’s future if the Princess chose him. Atem should have looked for some tongs or something.

The cracks in the egg lengthened still more, spiderwebbing over its surface.

“There is the sky,” thundered Muhra, crawling into the temple (scattering the Prime Minister and other important adults in all directions) until stopped by her enormous shoulders. The egg began to rock and tremble.

“There are games!” said Atem, and the egg burst open, spilling a tangle of slimy limbs, scales gleaming metallic gold, onto the dais.

The only sounds in the vast building were some faint wet squelching and tinkles of scattering eggshell as the dragonet sorted herself out. She was about the size of a newborn calf, and just as wobbly as one.

Finally she raised up her head, an exact miniature of her mother, perfect in every way - save perhaps the scrap of amnion and shell hanging off one ear - and said, “Which one of you is Atem?”

“Me,” said Atem, stepping forward.

“I choose you. Now feed me,” the Princess demanded.

There was a disappointed murmur from the other children, but not a loud one. They were all aware that in the matter of choosing a first companion, Princesses only went against the recommendations of Pharaohs about half the time. They were also all far enough inside the royal family to know the post of Rafiq Al’Amira was in many ways disadvantageous.

“Come, children,” said Mahaad’s mother, “let us cut the cake.”

Shimon pried Atem’s present from his nerveless fingers and handed it to Mahaad, replacing it with the bucket. “Go on,” he said gently, “your charge is hungry.”

The bucket was heavy. Atem staggered under its weight toward the infant Princess, who lurched off the dais to meet him and landed in a heap.

“Princess! Are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” she said, untangling herself with catlike wounded dignity. “What is that _smell?”_

“Lamb.” He set down the bucket, and pulled out a thick gobbet of blood-hot raw meat. His stomach turned, and he was suddenly glad it was too early to have eaten. He held it out in front of the Princess, who took it delicately in her teeth and then swallowed it whole.

“I _like_ lamb,” she announced.

“All Tunin-Ra’s like lamb,” Muhra murmured behind them, but the Princess only had eyes for the bucket.

“May I have some more?”

Atem gave her more, love swelling in his chest as he watched the little dragon gulp down the meat, becoming stronger with every bite. He had thought he loved the egg, but he was wrong. The egg didn’t move, or talk, or wiggle wings with delight as it took food from his hand, or look up at him trustingly with luminous eyes. Even the blood smearing her muzzle was cute.

At last she turned her face away from his hand with a belch. “No, thank you. I’m not hungry anymore.”  

“Such good manners,” her mother said approvingly, “Clearly you were listening when Kema’s family sat down for meals. Next, I think Atem has a gift for you.”

The dragonet’s eyes lit up further. “Oh?”

Mahaad came forward and put the present back in Atem’s hands, and he held it out: a faceted ruby as big as his fist, set in a gold sun disc, currently mounted as the centrepiece of a soft leather breastplate tooled in gold. “It’s for you to wear,” he said. “Her Majesty the Pharaoh says it was given to her on _her_ hatching day.” Had she chosen someone else, Atem would have handed it off to them.

“Put it on me!” Carefully, Atem slid the bands over her shoulders and down between her forelegs, attaching them to the girthstrap he passed around her chest. She shook vigorously once it was all secured. “That will not fall off,” she said, satisfied, and then craned her neck to peer adoringly at the jewel.

Atem’s breath caught as she turned the same gaze on him. “You have given me food, and treasure. Will you now give me a name of my own? Just my own?”

“Mana,” he said softly, stroking her neck.

“Mana bint Muhra,” said the Pharaoh, “it is good.”

“It _is_ good!” Mana extended her wings and flapped jubilantly, if unsteadily, into the air. “Oh, it is _good_ to be out of the egg!” Hatched, partnered, fed, harnessed, and flown; at some relayed signal Atem did not detect, the priests outside the temple began leading the teeming crowd in song.

Mana completed a wobbly circuit of the temple and nearly bowled Atem over on landing. She looked up at him and demanded, “How is your Japanese?”

Atem gaped. “My what?”

“Your Japanese. How much do you speak? All the best duelists live in Japan; we will need to learn Japanese if we are to train with them.”

Atem dropped to his knees to get his face level with Mana’s. “Seriously?”

She cocked her head. “Of course.”

Atem jumped up and started running in circles, yelling for sheer joy.

* * *

Aknamkanon kept his hands clasped behind his back, so no one could see how he was digging his nails into his palms almost hard enough to draw blood. He pretended to be interested in the fig tree in front of him, and tried to gather the composure to go back inside with a straight face.

Kema spoke behind him. “‘Your children are not your children. They are the sons and daughters of Life’s longing for itself.’”

He sighed. “Kahlil Gibran never had to give a child over to a life of dancing attendance upon a cloned lizard that won’t inherit its symbolic throne for a hundred years.”

“You knew this day was coming for a long time.”

“I knew. I knew the day I accepted the proposal of the Rafiq Almalika,” he turned, and slipped an arm about her waist. “I knew the day Atem was born, and the day we learned there would be no more. I knew when Her Majesty laid her egg, and when she informed us she was going to recommend Atem for Rafiq Al’Amira. I knew when Atem read bedtime stories to the egg every night it sat in our house. And yet for all my knowing, I am come to the sticking point and find myself stuck.”

“It’s not such a bad gig, ‘dancing attendance’.” Her raised eyebrow told him he would pay later for belittling her career thus. “Especially to a Princess; they can go almost anywhere, do almost anything.”

“Almost.”

“As _my_ son, this is as free as he can possibly be.” A high-pitched, drawn-out shriek of excitement sounded from inside the temple. Kema smiled crookedly. “Unless I miss my guess, the Princess just told him where she wants to study abroad.” She took his hand.

They went back inside just in time to see their tiny son tackle a minutes-old living god in a hug. The Princess’s wings fluttered in surprise, but then she bent her neck and draped her head over Atem’s little back. Perhaps she sensed that in a matter of weeks she would be too large for him to embrace so.

Aknamkanon looked from the calf-sized dragonet to her twenty-ton mother, watching all this fondly, and reflected that there were worse fates than to be friends for life with a heavyweight dragon.

Atem opened his eyes, leapt to his feet, and ran up to his parents. His forearms were as coated in gore as the Princess’s maw, and it was speckled on his cheeks and glasses, and smeared on his clothes (and on his usekh, a priceless relic older than the Draconic Dynasty). He had a chunk of eggshell in his hair. His face was so alight that Aknamkanon felt a lump in his throat.

“Mother! Father!” He spun to face the Pharaoh. “Your Majesty!” He spun again, flinging out his arms to encompass the whole of his surroundings, and shouted, “We’re going to be _duelists!”_

Worse fates indeed. Aknamkanon’s eye began to twitch.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. Whatever Aknamkanon my dude, in the canon you screwed the pooch so hard your kid had to magically nuke himself after less than a week on the job to clean up your mess. Suck it. 
> 
> 2\. Rafiq Almalika: "Queen's Companion"
> 
> 3\. covert: A living space for multiple dragons. If a pavilion is like a house, a covert is like a village.
> 
> 4\. Art of the canon Winged Dragon of Ra shows some red eyes, some amber eyes. I'm going with amber for variety. 
> 
> 5\. Kemetic: both the ancient Egyptian language and religion. Like in RL the language has evolved into Coptic (although it’s the primary language in Egypt instead of a liturgical language for a single Christian sect), but the religion is still alive and kicking.
> 
> 6\. halal liltananin: "permissible to dragons".
> 
> 7\. haram lilbashar: "forbidden to humans". 
> 
> 8\. I'm thinking that in a world with a second sentient species occupying a different ecological niche, Islamic precepts would be nuanced accordingly. I'm Googling the best I can but *please* let me know if I'm wildly missing the mark, either linguistically or theologically. This is an AO3 WIP, not a stone tablet!
> 
> 9\. bint: "daughter of"
> 
> 10\. The Kahlil Gibran quote is from 'The Prophet'.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When a disaster bisexual and a disaster gay collide. Or rather, when they DON'T, and lock into orbit around each other instead, to the exasperation of all.

_-Domino High, 2016-_

The bell rang and Yugi noticed Atem heaving a silent sigh of relief before packing away his glasses (the way he only wore them in class suggested he was far-sighted) and notebook (filled with very passable hiragana and katakana, with margin notes in what must be Coptic).

“I don’t know how you do it,” Yugi commented, falling into step beside him as they headed to gym.

“Huh?’

Yugi sighed inwardly. Atem was growing more comfortable with all his classmates except him, for some reason. Every time Yugi tried to talk to him he clammed up. Nevertheless, Yugi persisted.

“Keeping up with schoolwork in a foreign language - especially when the subjects are so _boring._ I don’t think I could do it.”

Atem flushed. “Mana has always wanted to come here, so we studied Japanese for a long time.” It was the longest sentence he’d managed yet - directed at Yugi, anyway.

“Did you want to come too? Or do you have to go where she goes?”

Atem nodded jerkily. “Yes.”

“To which?”

“Both.”

“Well, that’s good,” Yugi said as enthusiastically as he could. It was a relief when they reached the locker room and had a reason to split up.

Atem was always more animated in gym, and especially so during the current soccer unit. Princess Mana and Slifer crowded the edges of the field, offering color commentary and teaching the other dragons cheers in Arabic. Apparently dragons followed the Egyptian national sport as intently as humans did.

“Hustle, Joey!” called Mana. “Move those little legs!”

 _“Little?!_ Atem’s littler than me, Princess!”

 _“Atem_ knows how to hustle!” said Téa as Atem sprinted up the opposite side of the field. Joey did make it to the ball first and passed it to Yugi.

Atem yelled, “I’m open!”, and Yugi passed it to him, and he dribbled it up toward the goal.

Bakura was goaltending - or rather, working on his tan with his shirt rolled up to his armpits. He blew a kiss to Atem, but he also let his shirt fall back into place and widened his stance.

Atem wound up and kicked, and Bakura launched himself where the ball should go - except it went straight up instead. Just as defence barreled into him, Atem nailed the ball with his forehead towards Téa, who kicked it into the side of the goal that Bakura had left wide open.

“Game!”

Coach Morty broke up their victory huddle to crouch down until he could look Atem in the eye. _“Join the soccer team,”_ he begged.

“Thank you again for the invitation, Coach, but the soccer team’s schedule conflicts with the dueling team’s. My commitment to Her Highness takes precedence. Besides, the Domino High soccer team already has everything it needs to succeed: self-confidence, determination,” he clapped Coach Morty on the shoulder, “and a leader who can bring out both in his players.”

Coach Morty let them go with a wave of his hand, looking dazed, but standing up straighter than before.

“Holy geez, Atem,” said Joey, “where’d you learn to speechify like that?”

Atem smiled, a shyer smile than the wide grin he’d given Téa after she won the game. Yugi was becoming an expert in Atem’s different smiles. Now if only he could be responsible for more of them himself. “My parents, and - my godmother, they insisted I practice.”

“By ‘godmother’ he means _my_ mother,” said Mana.

“Your godmother is the _Pharaoh?”_ Yugi repeated. Atem froze (again), stammering wordlessly as he stared at the ground.

Mana sniffed, “It would be a poor partnership if a Pharaoh _wasn’t_ godmother to her Rafiq’s eggs.”

This seemed to jolt Atem out of his paralysis. He rubbed his face and groaned, “Yes, but we’re trying not to throw facts like that around, Mana, remember?”

“Actually, you fit right in,” Joey said. “Tons of kids around here have dragon fosters and guardians and shit.”

“See?” said Mana. “Now go get changed so we can get to practice!”

“I need to receive another food delivery and start supper before Mahaad’s done at the university,” said Slifer. “I’ll see you at the pavilion tonight.” He took off.

“Yugi.” Kaiba pulled him aside. “Don’t start air drills until Kisara and I get there. We have another upgrade for your beacons.”

“Again?”

“Yes, again. Don’t waste my time making me wait for you two to land.”

Yugi held back an eye-roll. “Sure thing, Kaiba, we’ll wait.”

Atem was just leaving the locker room when Yugi entered it, for which he was frankly grateful. It meant there was no risk of being caught noticing the dips between Atem’s muscles, or the hair curling on his chest and belly, or the way exposing more of his dark brown skin made his gold jewelry seem suddenly lit from within. Yugi didn’t look on purpose, but still. It was a miracle no one had called him out on it yet.

“Do you think Atem has caught me staring at him?” he asked Gandora as they flew to the dueling range. “Do you think that’s why he’s so strange with me?”

“Probably not, and _definitely_ not,” she replied. “I don’t understand why you won’t just polish your jewelry and tell him you want to mate with him.”

“Well, first of all, I’m not taking dating advice from someone who calls it “mating”. And second, oh my god, no! I want to make him feel comfortable here, not flee screaming back to Egypt.”

“As weird as humans are-”

_“‘Mating’.”_

“-I don’t think he would flee. I think your courtship would be well-received.”

“I can’t,” Yugi agonized, “I just can’t. He can never know. The stakes are too high. I just want to be his friend and his teammate and survive this stupid crush.”

 _“I_ might not survive if there isn’t some sort of progress soon,” Gandora grumbled, circling in to land on the field.

Most of the others, and a number of people not on the Domino High dueling team, were either in the air or on the shooting range. Yugi went to the gear shed and keyed in his combination, then lugged the case containing Gandora’s array over to her and started affixing the lenses to her nodes.

Mana landed nearby, with Atem aboard. “I love watching you put these on,” she said. “It’s incredible that just the baseline charge in the nodes will hold them so securely. And you’re so quick, Yugi!”

“Thanks! We get a lot of practice. Other side, girl.” Gandora rolled obligingly and Yugi all but slapped the lenses in a line from neck to tail, letting the electromagnet in each one guide it into the perfect position. “Now topside.” She rolled back into a wide-legged crouch, and he covered her legs, put the large lens on her chest, then climbed up and equipped her wings.

“You would look very fetching in a decorative set with LEDs inside, dear,” said Mana. “Perhaps red?”

“You read my mind!” Gandora exclaimed. “I’ve been asking for exactly that for years!”

“And _I’ve_ been saying for years that we can’t abuse Kaiba’s generosity that way,” Yugi responded.

Atem boggled, surprised out of his awkward silence. _“Kaiba_ sponsors your gear?”

Kisara chose that moment to make a showy vertical landing beside Mana. “He makes it, actually, according to my designs.”

“But you’re competitors!”

Kaiba said, “And I won’t insult Kisara by suggesting we compete against anything less than the best.” He slid down from her back, holding a box in one hand. “With tech this specialized, that means I have to provide it myself.”

“And we’re very grateful,” Yugi said firmly.

Kisara tilted her head. “But what did I hear about LEDs?”

Yugi tried to say, “Nothing,” but Mana spoke over him. “Don’t you think the lenses would look lovely with red LEDs inside?”

“It would be a disadvantage in competition, especially at night and on forested courses,” Kisara said thoughtfully, “but perhaps a second set, just for show.”

“She would look like a black Christmas tree,” Atem muttered, and Yugi burst out laughing.

“You’re not wrong, Atem!” he wheezed when he could speak again. Atem smiled - a bizarre, red-faced, tortured kind of smile, but a smile nonetheless. Yugi counted it as progress. 

“And what’s wrong with that?” Gandora retorted. “Christmas trees look wonderful.” All three dragons nodded sagely.

“Are we going to stand around discussing appalling draconic taste, or are we going to upgrade the beacons?” Kaiba snapped.

“Seto!” Kisara chided. “Don’t be rude to our friends.”

“They’re _not-”_

She raised her long neck to the vertical, like a swan preparing to savage an innocent parkgoer. “You will agree to make Gandora a set of _beautiful_ light-emitting lenses, or I will refuse to enter the summer tournament with you, and compete with Mokuba only.”

Kaiba scowled. “Fine,” he grumbled. _“Now_ can we upgrade the beacons and get to actual training?”

She softened her stance and nodded.

“Hand me your rifle, Yugi.” Kaiba took it and shook out the dozens of grommet-like beacons, passed a blinking wand over the pile, then bundled them into a plastic bag. He opened the box, which was filled with identical-looking beacons, and passed the wand over them. “Gandora, are you ready to emit a pulse?”

“One moment. Yugi, boots and grounding line?”

Yugi stood so his rubber-soled boots were the only things touching Gandora’s hide, and yanked on the grounding line. "Check and check."

“Everyone else, stand clear.” Gandora took a quick look around to confirm no one was touching her. “All clear. Ready to deliver.”

“In 3… 2…1.”

Gandora arched her back and neck and grunted softly. Sparks could be seen under the plates of her lenses, which flickered dark red for an instant before returning to black. At this angle only the chest beam was likely to connect, but that was enough.

Kaiba passed his wand over the box of beacons again, peering at a screen on the handle. “One hundred beacons, one hundred signatures,” he said with satisfaction. He pressed another button on the wand, resetting them all to their un-fired-upon state.

“What’s different about them?” Yugi asked. “They look the same as the old ones.”

Kisara answered, “Improved adhesion.”

Kaiba held one out, clutched in his fingers, and extended his clothed wrist above it. He opened his fingers and the beacon flew straight up and clung to his wrist. “They’re attracted to even the weakest bioelectric field,” he said. “You could tag gunners through their clothes, now, although I don't know why you would if you had a clear shot with the rifle proper." He pressed the release button on Yugi’s rifle, and the beacon fell back into his hand below. He poured the entire box of beacons carefully into the rifle and shook it to settle them, then passed it up to Yugi. “Turn on your targeting mesh and let’s test them in a real skirmish.”

“You don’t have to tell me twice!” Yugi reached for the covered button on Gandora’s harness. The luminous crosshatching of the infrared-sensitive holographic field settled over them both. Atem did the same for himself and Mana, and Kaiba climbed back aboard Kisara and followed suit. In the sky, Tristan lit up the same way; he or Joey must have noticed they were ready to start.

“Let’s duel!”

* * *

Mahaad dismounted from Slifer and entered the house on the edge of the leased pavilion. “I’m home,” he called.

“Hello, Mahaad,” came Mana’s voice from the living room. Mahaad had seen her lying with her head through the sliding doorway as Slifer descended. Atem groaned pitifully from the same direction. Mahaad sighed and headed that way, setting his laptop bag down by the door.

Sure enough, Atem was lying flat on his back on the sofa with his arm flung over his eyes. Mana regarded him sympathetically from where she rested her head on the carpet.

“How are you, milord?"

“I’m dying, Mahaad.”

“Please tell me you’re dying because you trained extra hard today and you have muscle pain?”

“No,” said Mana, “Atem made Yugi laugh today. It _was_ very cute.”

Atem rolled over and wailed his anguish into the couch cushions.

Mahaad proceeded into the kitchen. There was a pot of curried fish and rice reserved from the mighty batch that was the dragons’ supper, just waiting for some extra human-appropriate spices. He pulled a few down and started sprinkling and tasting as he heated it up on the stove. “Although it may not feel like it, no one has ever died of love.”

“Then I will be the first! Put it on my sarcophagus: _here lies Atem Sennen, who sickened of love for Yugi Mutou until it killed him._  Slifer will just have to share you with Mana.”

“I will do no such thing!” said Slifer, his head appearing beside Mana’s in the door. “Mana, if Atem is really dying, you must tell Yugi that Atem wants to court him!”

 _“No!”_ Atem found the strength to sit bolt upright. “You can’t tell him!”

“Somewhere,” Mahaad reflected, “all our royal protocol teachers are having simultaneous aneurysms at this many direct orders being given to Her Highness.”

“Oh, hush. There’s no one here to impress.” Mana rolled her head to look at Slifer. “Atem isn’t really dying. He’s just being silly.”

“My feelings are not _silly!”_

“Your refusal to act on them is.”

“But what if he doesn’t feel the same way? I have to attend classes with him, and train with him.” He flopped down again, covering his face with both hands. “It would be unbearable.”

“It’s very nearly unbearable now, for _us,”_ Mahaad said crisply, setting two bowls of curry on the table. “Wash your hands and come eat.” He sat down, murmured a brief _du’a,_ and dug into his own bowl. Atem slumped into the kitchen, washed his hands, and then slumped over to the table and sat drooping across from Mahaad, as disconsolate a teenager as ever pined for their beloved.

“In the name of-” He put on his glasses and peered into his bowl for a moment, poking the contents around, “-Neper and Hatmehit, _itadakimasu,”_ he mumbled, then started to eat. Mahaad breathed a small sigh of relief; if Atem ever stopped eating completely, he really _would_ take it upon himself to inform Yugi of Atem’s feelings and put them all out of their misery.

“So, aside from Yugi laughing-”

Atem whined briefly through his nose.

“-what else happened today?”

“Atem adequately represented Egypt in soccer during gym,” said Slifer, “and very politely turned down Coach Morty when he tried again to recruit Atem for the soccer team.”

“Well done.” Atem sat up a little straighter at that.

“And then at practice we learned Seto Kaiba makes Gandora’s equipment,” added Mana.

Mahaad paused. “All of it?”

“Mm-hmm. The lenses and beacons anyway, and presumably the rifle that launches the beacons. He upgraded the beacons today, actually.”

“So, he gives Yugi and Gandora gifts.”

Atem looked askance at Mahaad. “Very resentfully and gracelessly, insisting the whole time that it’s all in the service of having high-quality competition for Kisara.”

 _“Repeated_ gifts. What does that sound like to you, Mana?”

Mana narrowed her eyes. “That sounds like courting.”

Slifer gasped. It was doubly dramatic with two mouths. 

Atem glared at Mahaad. “It’s _not_ courting,” he insisted, “what are you getting at?”

Ignoring him completely, Mahaad went on, “It’s one thing to let Atem take his time with this, his first foray into romance, but it’s quite another to let someone else - someone less worthy - snatch Yugi from under his nose. Wouldn’t you agree, Mana?”

“Definitely,” Mana declared. “We shall simply have to court Yugi _for_ you, Atem.”

 _“Please_ don’t.”

Mana raised her head as high as she could in the confines of the doorway. “I am responsible for the wellbeing of all my people, and most directly that of my Rafiq,” she stated. “Don’t worry, I understand about ‘show don’t tell’.”

“The gods have forgotten me,” Atem moaned.

Mana pointed out, “Technically, _I_ am a god in the pantheon. And I promise I will never forget you, my little monkey,” she added with enormous - how else? - fondness.

“I _wish_ the gods would forget me.”

“Nonsense. Slifer, come help me think of gifts for Gandora and Yugi.” The two huge heads withdrew from the living room as they removed to the pavilion proper.

Atem looked like he was seriously contemplating drowning himself in the remaining fish curry. Or drowning Mahaad.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. du’a: Muslim prayer at meals  
> 2\. Neper: Kemetic god of grain  
> 3\. Hatmehit: Kemetic goddess of fish  
> 4\. itadakimasu: “I humbly receive”, traditional Japanese blessing before meals.  
> 5\. Now with [DELIGHTFUL ART](http://kudalyn.tumblr.com/post/180331195203) by kudalyn! Look at that body language! So perfect!


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Yugi met Gandora nothing was certain.

_-Domino City, 2010-_

The egg placement worker checked to make sure the door of her office was fully shut - it was surprisingly thick, probably soundproofed - before sitting down on her haunches behind her desk. She was a jade-green Lung Yu, smaller than a horse and able to use a human desk (so long as the chair was removed).

“Mr. Mutou - Yugi, is it?”

“That’s right.”

“You’ve expressed interest in taking home the black middleweight egg.”

“Mm-hmm. I was surprised no one else had adopted it already.”

“I’m about to tell you the reason for that. The egg is the result of a crossbreed that normally produces Red-Eyes Blacks, but scans indicate something went wrong this time. The developing dragonet has severe deformities. It’s still alive and growing - it may even hatch - but there’s a strong possibility that it won’t survive long after hatching.” The worker’s voice was sorrowful, but matter-of-fact. “This is considered a palliative placement, to make the most of whatever little time the dragonet might have. Of course we can’t dishearten it by letting it hear such things.”

“No,” Yugi agreed, dazed.

Grandpa spoke up. “If it does survive, does it have a pledge of funding from its parents? We can’t afford to feed up a lightweight from our own funds, let alone a middleweight.”

“Of course. The centre will not accept any egg for placement in a household without such a pledge.” She cocked her head. “Are you still intending to take it home?”

Grandpa looked at Yugi, who gave him a firm nod and said, “If it’s going to have a short life, then it’s even more important to make it a good one.”

“That’s my boy,” Grandpa said warmly.

The egg was crated and placed into the wagon they’d brought with them today to the adoption centre. They pulled it home with great care and no small amount of effort.

Yugi talked to it all the way. “You’re feeling some bumps right now. That’s the staircase up to our home above Grandpa’s game shop. You’re a big strong egg and we’re two short guys, so we can only lift you up a few steps at a time.”

On the top floor at last, they set a nest up in Yugi’s bedroom. “You’ll be able to hear everything on this floor if I just leave my door open,” Yugi said, “and we’ve set up an audio feed from the game shop, so you’ll be able to listen in while Grandpa’s working and I’m at school. You’ll hatch with the biggest Japanese gaming vocabulary of any dragonet in the world!”

Téa came over after school later that week. Yugi was excited to introduce her to the egg.

“Can it really hear me?”

“Totally! Hey, egg, this is my friend Téa! Say hello, Téa.”

“...Hello.” Téa ventured closer to the egg. “Can I touch it?”

“Sure, just be gentle.”

She laid her hand gingerly on the black shell. “It’s so warm!”

“Yeah, we have to keep it really warm.” He’d been allowed to turn up the heat in his room, which was _awesome_ in the winter.

“How close is it to hatching?”

“We don’t know for sure. Probably at least a few more months.” A worker from the centre was scheduled to visit every couple of weeks to listen to the dragonet’s heartbeat (mostly to make sure one was still there), but with it being… _one-of-a-kind,_ the time until hatching was anyone’s guess.

“That’ll be so cool.” Téa stroked the shell one more time, then drew away. “Okay, so what do you want to do?”

“You’re my guest, so you pick.” Téa picked Mario Kart.

She came back every week. Sometimes they played video games, sometimes card games. Sometimes they built giant Lego projects, or dioramas for school. Sometimes they just sat around reading manga or magazines. Téa liked magazines about aerialist ballet.

“Look at this.” She showed him a two-page spread of a human dancer mid-flip, trailing broad scarves like smoke from a firework, having been launched off the tail of her Greyling partner. It looked to Yugi like the angle of the dragon’s wings was part of the pose as well.

“That looks scary.”

“It looks _so fun!_ I want to do that when I grow up. I’m already taking lessons. If I get good enough I can move up to the class with the dragons.”

“I know you’ll be good enough, Téa. You’re the best.” He showed her his magazine. “Duelling is probably less dangerous, because you get to wear a safety harness.”

Her eyes widened at the shot: a panorama from the ground of a sky full of dragons, each with a gunner on their back, at least a dozen of them in a melee match. “There’s no choreography, though. I’d be scared of crashing into someone!”

“Contact is against the rules, just like breath attacks.”

“Still.” She turned the page and said, “Whoa! Is that dragon painted gold?”

Yugi looked over her shoulder. _“Fledgling Duelists Around The World,”_ he read. _“Two-year-old heavyweight, Princess Tunin-Ra XVII, and her ten-year-old captain Atem Sennen, from Egypt._ Grandpa told me about the Tunin-Ra’s before. That’s just how they look. It is pretty cool, though.”

Téa giggled. “Look, Yugi! Her captain has the same hair as you!”  

It was a good photo of the heavyweight dragon, which meant it _wasn’t_ a very good photo of the tiny figure on her back, but Téa was right: the boy in the photo had the same multicolored hair that refused to lie flat. Yugi tried to imagine himself in the picture, directing a dragon and wielding a dueling rifle all at once; it seemed a little less impossible than it did a moment ago. “You’re right,” he said thoughtfully, “he does.”

Spring came, and one morning Yugi told the egg, “I’ll be home a little later today - there’s a big soccer game this afternoon against another school.”

“Yugi!” called his mother from downstairs, “Téa’s waiting for you to walk with her!”

“I’ll be right down, Mom!” Just as he crossed the threshold of his room, he heard a faint but unmistakeable crunch. He turned, hardly daring to believe it, but sure enough there was an obvious crack in the shell of the egg.

“Mom!” he yelled. “The egg is hatching!”

Two minutes later, Téa came pounding up the stairs. “What do you need?”

“Téa, I’ll be excused from school for this, but you won’t.”

“I _so_ don’t care. What do you need?” Yugi knew that stance and that set of her jaw; she wasn’t going anywhere.

“Um, towels. Lots of towels. And raw meat. Grandpa can tell us if what we’ve got in the fridge will work. I’ll get the towels if you get Grandpa.”

“Got it!” She dashed off again. Yugi emptied the linen closet of towels and returned to his room.

“Okay, baby, we’re ready for you. Come on out!” The egg vibrated, and the crack widened a millimetre.

It took hours. At one point Téa asked, “Is it supposed to take this long?” and Yugi had to say, “The people from the centre say it can, for sure, nothing to worry about. Take all the time you need, baby!” while he wrote on a piece of paper, _maybe not but don’t say anything._ He passed her the note and she read it with raised eyebrows, then grabbed for his pencil and wrote _?_

 _It might be,_ he hesitated, then wrote, _different._

_Should we take it to a hospital?_

_No, they said it’s important to let it push free on its own._ Yugi let her read that, then crumpled up the paper and stuffed it deep in his trashcan.

Not long after that the spiderweb of cracks on one side became so loose that the next time it bulged outward, a huge flake of shell fell right off. Téa gasped. “Yugi, look!”

Under the shell was a layer of clear membrane, and behind that, they could see something moving. Vague black shapes slid past the little window, and then suddenly they could both see a bright red eye. They jumped. The eye blinked.

Yugi recovered first. “Hi! Hi, baby!” he cheered, waving frantically. “You’re almost out! Just break that membrane and you’ll be free in no time!”

The eye disappeared, but a moment later the whole section bulged out farther than ever before and then finally, finally gave way. A little black head poked out and peered at them both, blinking slime out of its eyes.

Yugi and Téa cheered so loudly Mom and Grandpa came running.

“Oh.” said Mom.

“Hello!” said Grandpa.

The dragonet opened and closed their mouth several times, then wheezed, “Help me. I’m - so tired, and - I can’t breathe.” Their voice was high-pitched; they sounded like a little kid. Like a little _girl,_ and abruptly Yugi had had enough of what was supposed to happen.

Grandpa started to say, “You have to-” but Yugi cut him off.

“She made it on her own far enough to ask for help; now she gets it!” He dug his fingers in beside the dragonet’s neck and ripped a huge section of shell free. The rest of the egg collapsed, and the dragonet unfolded her body and then went limp, panting rapidly.

Mom stepped forward with a towel. “Thaat’s it,” she crooned, gingerly wiping her down. “Get all the air you need.”

Gradually her breathing slowed and deepened. “Oh,” she said at last, her voice cracking, “that was so hard. I can’t move at all now.”

“You don’t have to,” Yugi said quickly. “Do you think you could eat some food?”

She pricked up her ears. “I could eat.”

“I have just the thing,” said Grandpa, “I ran out and got it when the first crack showed up!” He hurried out of the room.

“Let’s get a look at you, girl.” Yugi said, taking the towel from Mom and shifting out of the beam from the skylight. It was nearly noon, so it shone more or less straight down onto the dragonet.

She would probably stand about as high as a Shiba Inu, and half again as long before the tail. Her scales were pitch black, with a hint of oily iridescence, and her eyes were bright red. In other words, she looked for all the world like a normal Red-Eyes Black, except for-

“What are those?” Téa blurted without thinking, pointing at the bumps that ran in orderly rows up and down the dragonet’s body.

“What are what?” The dragonet turned her head weakly.

Yugi stammered, and Mom glanced at him and said, “You have a lovely, unique pattern of prominences all over. Do they hurt?”

She thought for a moment. “No.”

“Then it’s nothing to worry about. I think they look quite fetching.”

“Agreed,” said Grandpa, returning with a bucket. “I’ve met a lot of dragons in my day, and you have to be the prettiest of the bunch.”

She curved her neck bashfully, then caught wind of the bucket and her head shot up. “What’s that?”

“Fresh mackerel, all you can eat. I do wonder if growing that extra design of yours is why you’re extra tired now; regardless, let’s get some food into you. Yugi, go ahead.”

Yugi pulled out a fish and held it up to the dragonet’s snout. She eyed it for a second, and then snapped it up.

“Good girl,” Yugi said as it disappeared down her throat.

“Is there more?”

“Like Grandpa said, all you can eat.” Yugi offered another, and another, praising her all the while, and by the time she refused a fish (one of only several left in the bucket), her belly was distended and she looked much more energetic.

“Oh, I almost forgot! Am I too late?”

“Too late for what?”

“The soccer game! I came out because I wanted to go with you.”

Yugi looked at the clock. “We can just make it, I think.”

The dragonet pulled herself to her feet and extended her wings - to an alarmed sound from Mom - but when she flapped them she didn’t really lift off, despite scattering papers all over Yugi’s room.

“That doesn’t seem right,” she said, sounding disappointed.

“Unique dragons sometimes take a while to fly,” Yugi said. “Like Kulingile.”

“Who?”

“Only the biggest dragon of all _time!”_ said Téa. “His egg was a little too small for him, and so his air sacs took some time to inflate. Everybody learns about him in school.”

“It’s not a problem,” said Yugi, “You can just ride on my shoulders. Everyone at school will be so jealous that I have such a great dragon there with me!”

She preened for a moment, then said, “What will you introduce me as?”

“I think… Gandora.”

“Gandora,” she repeated, “I like it.”

She did ride on Yugi’s shoulders to the school, but during the match she half-climbed onto his head to see over the crowd. Her little claws dug painfully into Yugi’s scalp, but he couldn’t be happier.

After the game, Gandora was raving with excitement. “Did you see the way the ball sailed across half the field? Just -” she took a deep breath, and felt suddenly lighter on Yugi’s shoulders, and then glided off him going, “Nyoooom!” clearly imitating the ball - except instead of following a graceful arc back to earth, she stayed level. She tried flapping her wings, and rose higher.

“Gandora!” shouted Téa. “You’re flying!”

“I’m flying!” She sounded both thrilled and terrified. “How do I stop?”

“How should we know? We can’t fly!” Yugi shouted - he had to shout, because she was getting farther and farther away. “At least turn back toward us!”

She tried, but only managed to do a 90-degree turn and vanished around a corner. Yugi and Téa both took off running, their hearts in their throats.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. Kulingile was a real dragon from the Temeraire canon, and a total cinnamon roll when he wasn't turning anyone who threatened his captain into blood jam.
> 
> 2\. WE HAVE ART!!! ALERT, ALERT, THIS IS NOT A DRILL. AMAZING ART SIGHTED [YONDER.](https://toffeecape.tumblr.com/post/176466169302/celepom-yugi-with-a-baby-gandora-partially)


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Atem needs all the help he can get.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Allusions to abuse in this chapter, near the end, but nothing extensive.

_\- Domino City, 2016 -_

Atem thought he was suffering before. What a fool he was. Having Mana and Slifer as his ‘wingmen’ was a thousand times worse.

One afternoon not long after Mana’s declaration, he walked out of the school to find Gandora teaching commands to a voice-activated tablet. The tablet was small enough to fit in a backpack, but projected a holographic screen big enough for dragons to view comfortably. Such devices were common back home - at least among Atem’s family - but he and Mahaad had agreed to leave them behind so as not to enable draconic obsessing over bank balances and investment fluctuations while they were at loose ends at sea.

“Oh, oh! Go to duelmonsters.com,” Gandora told the device. It obligingly loaded a webpage so garishly splashed with color, it had to be designed by and for dragons. Atem’s eyes hurt just glancing at it.

“Mana,” Atem began, not quite sure what he was going to say next but unable to let this pass, “you-”

“What’s this?” said Yugi, and Atem’s words dried up like a wisp of morning cloud over the desert.

“Ah,” he said intelligently. Sometime between school letting out and arriving at the pavilion, Yugi had unbuttoned his uniform shirt. The collar he wore was now fully visible, as was his suprasternal notch. The pale tan skin of his neck glowed almost translucent where it was misted with sweat. Even though the weather was barely warm to Atem, he was suddenly boiling-hot himself; his ears in particular felt like they could burst into flame at any moment. “Er.”

Gandora saved him. “Yugi, look! Mana got me a tablet!”

“A trifle, really,” said Mana airily. “We were outfitting our pavilion since we were obliged to travel light, and there was a ‘buy two, get one free’ sale.”

“How come _I_ don’t get one?” grumped Tristan.

“Oh, I can't be seen giving gifts to a male dragon, Tristan. The implication that I was courting to make an egg with you would be unavoidable and very troublesome.”

“I mean I _would-”_ Tristan started to say, but Gandora muzzled him with a coil of her tail.

“Whereas I can give gifts to my female friends and let them be just that!” Mana concluded cheerfully.

Yugi frowned in thought. “You can make eggs? I mean, that aren’t clone-eggs?”

“Oh, yes. We don’t bandy the fact about to all and sundry, especially back home, as the cultists find it rather provoking. But yes, Mother is forever angling for interesting crosses. I expect I will too, in my time.” Mana ‘winked’, which is to say she turned her head to show Atem only one eye when she blinked, as if to say, _See how easy it is to share details of your singularly bizarre life? Surely reasonable people will not run for the hills!_

He allowed that he might be projecting a little.

“There’s a lot to unpack there, Your Highness,” said Joey, “but I’m kinda stuck on the _cultists._ What the _hell?”_

“It’s all rather backwards and embarrassing, really,” Slifer said. “Science has allowed us to understand the true nature of the Sun, and yet there are still those who get very hung up on the self-created ‘purity’ of its Kemetic herald, the Tunin-Ra.”

“To be fair,” Mana added, “this ‘hangup’ has stabilised the Draconic Dynasty for over thirty-four centuries, and to a _degree_ continues to do so today. But Slifer is quite right.”

Yugi blinked, clearly a little dazed by this insight. Desperate to change the subject, Atem blurted out the first thing to come to mind: “What are you doing now? Since we don’t have practice today, I mean,” he babbled before slamming his mouth shut.

Yugi smiled. Atem’s heart pounded; he hoped his face was doing something normal. “Well, Téa still has dance practice, so we’ll probably just go to the arcade. Want to come?”

“Is there room?” said Slifer doubtfully.

Joey snorted. “Is there room! It’s a KaibaLand, and everything Kaiba does is Kisara-sized.”

“That sounds like fun,” said Mana, “let’s do it!”

The arcade _was_ impressive. There were similar businesses in Egypt, but Mana couldn’t visit them without attracting paparazzi. Here, her appearance attracted some attention, but it didn’t carry the same weight - especially once she started in on the dragon-sized games with Slifer, Gandora, and Tristan, and it became clear she was just another gamer.

He said as much to Yugi; it was easier to pull himself together for Mana’s sake than his own. “Thank you for this; Mana can’t really do this at home.”

Yugi smiled at him _again._ “It’s no problem! Did you get out to arcades much yourself?” His eyes reflected every color of the neon signs around them, and there was a pleased hint of pink in his cheeks.

“Some,” he said, strangled, “with my cousins. I need to- go-” he fled Yugi’s confused, almost hurt look, and made a beeline for the bathroom. Locked in a stall, he beat his head quietly against the wall.

Under his breath, he whispered a prayer to Hathor. Yugi, so kind and gentle - and beautiful - was clearly one of Hers. He prayed to Her for help conducting himself with grace, and sealed the prayer with an offering, making a donation in Her name from his phone. Then he ventured back out into the arcade.

He took calming refuge in a target-shooting game. It was easier than firing from Mana’s back, even if the targets were smaller.

“You taking challengers?” Atem looked behind him. Joey stood hipshot, one eyebrow raised.

He grinned back. “Always.”

They spent some time blowing away digital targets. Atem took a narrow lead early on, but the rifle wasn’t sized for his frame and eventually Joey’s reach won the day.

“Well done,” Atem said.

“You too. Listen, Atem…”

“Yes?”

“Yugi’s favorite food is hamburgers, and the ones at the concession here ain’t bad.” He punched Atem’s shoulder gently and winked. “Don’t say I never did nothin’ for ya.” Then he wandered away.

Atem sighed. He was obvious to dragons; he should have expected that he would be obvious to most humans. He went to buy some burgers.

As it turned out, the concession was _very_ well-appointed. Atem came away with burgers for himself, Yugi, and Joey, with staff lugging seared haunches of pork out to the dragons (and a crate of raw seabream for Slifer). Joey appeared to be locked in Mortal Kombat with Bakura, but Atem was able to flag Yugi down to come sit at a bench with him.

Yugi’s eyes lit up when he saw the burgers. “Wow,” he said, “you didn’t have to do that, but thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” Yugi sat down, and Atem said, “I’m sorry, for running off earlier-”

“No, _I’m_ sorry. I can tell you hate reminding people you’re basically royalty.”

There was a mile of glass encircling the Djeser-Djeseru that said Atem was _emphatically not_ royalty, but Yugi wasn’t wrong as far as Atem’s aversion went.

“Still,” he said, “there’s no call to be rude.” He went to bite into his burger, and Yugi said, “Um, the meat here probably isn’t - halal? Am I saying that right?”

Atem fought off a swoon. Yugi was so thoughtful. “You are, and it isn’t, but I’m not Muslim. I’m Kemetic, like Mana.”

Yugi looked confused. “But I’ve heard Slifer complaining about how hard it is to source halal meat here. He’s considering buying a herd of live animals!”

 _“Slifer_ is Muslim, as is Mahaad. We live together, so I eat halal more often than not, but I’m not obligated to.”

“Do you have any obligations of your own, food-wise?” Yugi asked.

Atem said drily, “I’m reasonably confident this,” he hefted his burger, “is neither human flesh nor stolen from a temple, and I didn’t steal it myself, so I’m in the clear.”

Yugi laughed. Atem was abruptly occupied by trying not to choke to death on his mouthful of food. _Thanks for nothing, Hathor._

But maybe She came through for him after all, because just as Atem was about to disgrace himself again, Joey flopped down at the table.

“Sweet! I’m starvin’!” He engulfed nearly half his burger in one bite, and then snapped his fingers as if remembering something, pointed at Atem, and said with bulging cheeks, “Oo shuh um oo ay nie!”

Atem stared. Yugi translated, “‘You should come to game night’. That’s a great idea, Joey!”

“What’s game night? Is it like this?”

Joey swallowed. It was not unlike watching Mana swallow a goat whole. “Not quite. It’s the one day when Téa has a break from dance practice and we have a break from duelling practice at the same time, so a bunch of us hang out and play board games, card games, that kinda stuff. Usually in the little park near Yugi’s place so there’s room for all the dragons to see the Mazes & Monsters mat. It’s a little tight with Ryou, and Bakura is a nuts DM, but it’s a good time.”

Atem thought for a moment. “If it’s the park I’m thinking of, I’m not sure Mana and Slifer would fit. Why not come out to our pavilion instead? We have room.” Also, Mahaad would be pleased to have the chance to play Mazes & Monsters again.

“Yeah?” Joey got out his phone. “Text me the address, I’ll send it to the others.” He included Atem when he forwarded the message, and just like that Atem had Yugi’s cell number. “Alright, we’ll be there Thursday.” Joey scarfed down the rest of his burger and moved on, fries and soda in hand.

Yugi watched him go. “He took all the fries,” he said mournfully. Before Atem could respond to that, Yugi fixed his gaze on Atem, looking unusually serious. “It was good of you to offer to host, but there’s something else you need to know about game night. It has to run late, late enough to give Joey an excuse to sleep there.”

Atem blinked. “What? Why?”

Yugi sighed. “Because it’s not safe for him to go home. Tristan and I take turns finding reasons for him to ‘crash’ with us. Téa would help too but she’s a girl and her parents would be uncomfortable with a boy staying overnight.”

“What do you mean, ‘it’s not safe’?”

“His dad. Also a gang in that neighborhood has it in for him and Tristan, but - mostly his dad.” Yugi looked uncomfortable. “Even I don't know the details. I just know that if we keep up the polite fiction that he keeps staying out too late with us by accident, he keeps clothes and a toothbrush at my house and gets to school on time with no new bruises.”

Atem nodded slowly. “I see.” He was concerned for Joey, he wanted to know why that was the best solution anyone could come up with… but another part of him was listening in near-despair to the gong inside himself. _I love you,_ it rang, _I love you. I am doomed to love you for the rest of my days._

He felt abruptly peaceful for once, looking the fact square in the face instead of fleeing the anxiety it caused him. He doubted he would be lucky enough to have this sense of equilibrium last, but he would rest in it while he could.

All he said was, “I’ll make sure we have spare blankets and toothbrushes in the house.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. Hathor: goddess of love (and a slew of other things, but it's the love that's on Atem's mind)
> 
> 2\. You may have noticed none of them spend any time studying at all. However, in canon they barely even go to school, so I’m ahead in the realism department there.
> 
> 3\. Some real reptiles practice facultative parthenogenesis! Because it's important to me that my story about teenagers playing laser tag on dragonback have a tether to reality, however flimsy :-P
> 
> 4\. The next How I Met My Dragon chapter is a little heavier. I feel like the rating should reflect the content I've actually posted, but this is just to say that I will be raising it again next week.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Joey met Tristan on the worst day of his life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More implied abuse and some explicit violence.

_\- Domino City, 2010 -_

Joey felt worse with every step he took. As much as he didn’t want to be at home, he wanted to be anywhere this Hirutani guy _wasn’t_ even more.

He wasn’t angry at Mom for leaving, nor for taking Serenity with her. They’d be safe now. But he was _really_ angry at being left behind. He’d heard a fairy tale once, where wolves were chasing a sled through the snow, and the people in the sled threw one person off for the wolves to eat so the rest of them could get away. Joey felt like that, like a piece of meat sacrificed.

Dad left to get shitfaced as soon as Mom’s car (Serenity screaming in the rear window) disappeared from sight. Joey went up to the apartment to fall apart in his room for a while, howling into his pillow like a little kid, until his throat hurt and his eyes hurt and he was too tired to do that anymore, but he still didn’t feel any better inside. Then he thought about fixing dinner for just himself, not him and his little sister; and _then_ he thought about trying to go to sleep tonight and being in the apartment alone whenever Dad got back… and he just couldn’t. He couldn’t face it. He had to get _out,_ get _away,_ just go _anywhere._

So when he stepped out onto the sidewalk and some of the older boys from his school saw him, and decided he’d purposely skipped out on the big soccer game with another school, and invited him to come _‘fuck shit up’,_ he thought that sounded pretty good.

It didn’t sound so good now. He wanted to wreck something, sure, but not _good_ things like his neighbor Ichino’s bicycle or the windows of Mr. Tokuda’s convenience store. These guys were just like Dad, making everything worse for no reason.

Worst of all was Hirutani, the lightweight Ka-Riu egging them on. When Joey tried to slip away, he shot a glob of vitriol onto the pavement in front of his feet. “Going somewhere, Wheeler?” he hissed.

Joey looked down at the steaming hole in the street and clenched his fists. “Yeah, ta take a leak!” he shouted back. It wasn’t even a total lie; he was lucky he hadn’t pissed himself then and there.

“Save it for the main event. Who’s hungry?”

The boys cheered.

“Let’s find somebody to shake down!”

They set off running. Joey barely had to pretend to fall behind.

When the boy and girl came running around a corner, he almost crashed into them. “Watch it!” he snapped.

“Did you see a dragonet come this way?” asked the boy urgently. His face and voice made Joey think he was about Joey’s age, even though that would make him the shortest 10-year-old Joey had ever seen. The girl with him was a head taller than him. They must be students at another elementary school.

“She’s black with red eyes, and flying kinda crazy,” said the girl, “She just figured out how a little while ago. We’re really worried about her!”

Joey wrinkled his forehead. “She just figured out how? How new is this baby?”

The boy sighed. “She just hatched today.”

“Holy geez.” Joey remembered where they were. “Holy _shit_ , you do _not_ want to be out here right now with a hatchling!” Shouts and jeers erupted from farther up the street. “Oh, no.” He bid his vague escape plans goodbye and sprinted to catch up with the main group, the boy and girl hot on his heels.

“I’m Téa, by the way,” panted the girl, “and this is Yugi.”

“I’m Joey. Either of you got a phone?”

“No, why?”

“Because now would be a good time to call 119,” Joey said grimly.

The gang was clustered around a streetlight. Clinging to the top of it was what had to be the missing dragonet, sliding clumsily back and forth as she repeatedly overcorrected with panicked flaps of her wings.

“Somebody call the fire department; little kitty’s stuck up a tree!”

“That or a giant bat’s up early!”

“Never fear,” drawled Hirutani. “Rescue is here!” His mocking tone made it clear this ‘rescue’ was nothing of the sort. Boys near him dropped to a crouch to avoid being clipped by his wings as he lifted off, long body winding lazily around the streetlight as he ascended.

“Be careful with her, _please!”_ Yugi shouted.

Hirutani plucked the dragonet none-too-gently from her perch with one foot, caging her whole body loosely in his clawed toes, then dropped back to earth. “What have we here?” he said with interest, turning his foot to peer at the dragonet inside.

“It’s all lumpy!”

“It looks like a buncha chicken nuggets in a garbage bag!”

Yugi howled, “You take that back!” Téa had to grab him around the waist to stop him from launching himself at the speaker. “And let her go!”

“Is that true, little one?” Hirutani teased the dragonet, “should we make you into nuggets?”

“I’d like to see you try, stinkyfeet!” piped the dragonet, her voice quavering. Joey was abruptly reminded of Serenity. He felt his last fuck give way with a gentle tearing sensation.

No one was looking at him. He looked around for a rock or chunk of concrete, but he couldn’t see any, so he took off his shoe instead. He wound up and threw, beaning Hirutani right in the eye.

“Hey! _Fuck_ face!”

Hirutani wheeled to face him, staring with one eye while blinking furiously with the other. It was super creepy.

Joey let his American accent get as obnoxiously thick as possible. “Dat’s right, Fuckface McGee! Drop da baby and pick on someone your own size!” He looked Hirutani up and down. “I’m fifty-nine pounds. Are ya even up ta dat?” Hirutani had to weigh at least two tons, if not three, but lightweights were notoriously insecure about their size.

Sure enough, Hirutani’s frill flared and he hissed in annoyance. “You have a mouth on you, half-breed. Can you really afford to piss on the opportunity I’m offering you?”

Joey shrugged. “Well ya won’t lemme go piss in a _toilet,_ so.”

Shuffling and giggles spread among the rest of the gang. Hirutani stiffened; what _he_ couldn’t afford was to lose face.

His next move, however, threw Joey.

“Grab his little friends,” he ordered. Two of the biggest boys lunged for Yugi and Téa.

“What are you doing?” Joey yelled. “Your business is with me!”

Hirutani puffed out his chest, gesturing with the foot that still held the furiously-thrashing dragonet. “We’re a community-minded organization, Wheeler. What’s good for us is good for the community, and what _isn’t_ good for- aaaghwhatthe _fuck?”_ Hirutani ended his pompous speech in a shriek, opening his foot and recoiling.

The dragonet went _apeshit._ Freed from Hirutani’s talons, she clawed her way up his foreleg, spitting and yowling wordlessly all the way.

“It _shocked_ me somehow!” Hirutani shouted. “Get it off, get it off!”

The boys in the gang all glanced at each other. Hirutani was more than twice the size of a horse, and dancing around such that his feet and tail were going everywhere. None of them moved, except to get out of his way.

The dragonet swarmed up onto his back, and then up his neck, until finally she was perched on his head.

 _“I won’t let you hurt them!”_ she snarled, then hunched her back and spread her wings. Blue bolts of electricity arced out from all the little bumps on her body - she _was_ kind of lumpy, but Joey wouldn’t have said it before and he _definitely_ wouldn’t say it after this - and crackled straight into the first thing that wasn’t her: Hirutani’s head.

The noise he made was horrible, a grinding screech. He started to collapse, but it was a ragged process with his body going periodically rigid. The boys who had followed him scattered like rats.

“Everybody, freeze! This is the police!” roared a voice overhead. Hirutani flailed again, and a ball of _red_ lightning smashed into the base of his neck. The dragonet didn’t seem to notice, riding his head to the ground.

“Gandora, _stop!”_ screamed Yugi. The dragonet - Gandora - looked at Yugi, and she stopped sparking. She leapt off Hirutani and collided with Yugi’s chest.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” she wailed. “I was just so _angry!”_ Yugi made shushing noises and petted her, smoothing her folded wings against her back and stroking her neck and tail.

“It’s okay,” he said, “I’m not mad. I was just scared for you. Are you okay?”

She whimpered, “My wings hurt.”

“Well then, let’s take a look at them,” Yugi said. Joey could see how carefully Yugi handled her wings as he spread and inspected them. When he wasn’t frantic his voice was really soft and gentle. Joey wished he had someone to treat him like that. He swallowed against the renewed lump in his throat, his anger and fear all burnt out and nothing left but hurt.

“I don’t see any cuts or breaks, Gandora. Just some bruises, I think.”

“When I say freeze, I mean _freeze!”_ said the voice that had sounded overhead a minute ago. A middleweight dragon glided to a sharp stop in the road: a big Red-Eyes Black, with - yep, bulletproof panels and red-and-blue lights on his harness. A fucking cop. Just great.

He sauntered up to Hirutani, who lay barely breathing in a heap. “Hirutani,” said the cop, sounding absolutely disgusted. “What, are you grooming elementary-schoolers to run your _shabu_ now? And-” he sniffed the air, _“day-old dragonets?_ You scumbag. Hey, look at me when I’m talking to you!”

“Sir?” said Téa, “he’s been, uh, electrocuted.”

The cop tilted his head. “Yeah? Did you see who did it? Before me, I mean.”

“Me,” Gandora admitted in a tiny voice.

“You?” The cop drew in close and inspected Gandora with one eye. “You’re a - _are_ you a Red-Eyes Black?”

“Someone said I was supposed to be, in the place before _your_ place,” she nodded to Yugi, “but they said there’s something wrong with me. Do you think this is what they meant?” Her voice turned shrill as she finished.

The cop crouched as low to the ground as he could get. His shoulders were still easily twice Yugi’s height, but it changed his demeanor. “Hey, hey, listen. That guy was gonna hurt your friends, right?”

She sniffled. “I think so.”

“Yessir,” Joey confirmed. “He was about to hawk up a vitriol loogie all over them.” He suddenly imagined what would have happened if Gandora had waited another few seconds, if she had shocked his glands and made them spew randomly, and shuddered.

“I believe you,” said the cop. “The Diesels - some people he works with - they killed my human partner not too long ago.”

Gandora gasped. “Really?”

“Really. So believe me when I say you did the right thing stopping him. My CO - my commanding officer - she likes to say that maybe tomorrow, or ten years from now, you’ll think of a way you could have done it better, or cleaner, but you were the one on the ground at the time. Try not to beat yourself up. And hey,” he said more casually, “if you can drop a nasty customer like Hirutani on your first day of life, there’s _nothing_ wrong with you. I call that bad _ass.”_

“Bad _ass,”_ Gandora whispered to herself.

“Now you kids go home so I can radio this in. You were gone before I got here, alright? I never saw you.” Yugi and Téa nodded, wide-eyed, then ran off.

The cop awkwardly raised a leg to hold a button on his harness, muttering into what must be his radio. After a brief exchange with a crackling voice on the other end, he turned and saw Joey.

“What did I tell you, kid? Go home.”

“I am home.” Joey pointed up the street. “That’s my apartment building.”

“So go home to your apartment,” said the cop, enunciating slowly like he thought Joey was stupid.

“...I can’t.” The cop tilted his head again, and Joey admitted, “Mom left today, with my sister. If I’m there alone when Dad gets back from drinkin’, I…” he couldn’t say it.

“Shit,” the cop said under his breath. “And you can’t go to the shelter; the Diesels have eyes on the inside there. I’m assuming most of Hirutani’s bunch saw your face before they took off?”

Joey nodded. “I- I dunno what I’m gonna do about school, either. They all go to mine.”

“I can help you change schools easy enough.” The cop sat down and looked up at the sunset. “You know, today’s my last day as a cop?”

“Whaddya mean?”

“No one will be able to prove I’m lying about what wiped out that greaseball over there,” he indicated Hirutani with a jerk of his head; he was still breathing, but he hadn’t moved a muscle since Gandora stopped frying his brain. “But they also won’t believe my lie. Not after Devlin; not after I wouldn’t take another partner; not after I wouldn’t stop patrolling this neighborhood. I’ll be offered a nice retirement package, and if I don’t take it I’ll meet with an unfortunate ‘accident’.”

“Wow.” Joey sat down beside him. “I’m sorry about you losing your job.”

The cop shrugged. “I’m less torn up than I thought I’d be; I’d lost the stomach for it anyway. I’m sorry about you losing your mom and your sister.”

“Yeah, me too.”

“What’s your name, kid?”

“Joey. Joey Wheeler.”

“Nice to meet you, Joey Wheeler. I’m Tristan.” He drummed his toes on the pavement, clicking his claws, like he was thinking, then sang softly in English, _“You don’t have to go home, but you can’t stay here.”_

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means stay out of sight until the ambulance is gone, and then you and me can go find someplace to hang out, okay?”

Joey narrowed his eyes. “Where?” He was through going places that made him feel worse.

“How about a dueling range? No bullets, just infrared guns and sick flying tricks.” Tristan looked Joey up and down. “And, uh, hot dogs? You look like you could use a hot dog… or twenty…”

“I only like hot dogs in New York,” Joey informed him, “in Japan I like curry and rice.”

“I think I can swing that.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. 119 is the Japanese equivalent of 911.
> 
> 2\. Please extend to Gandora the same willing suspension of disbelief you offer Thor and Pikachu. 
> 
> 3\. shabu: crystal meth
> 
> 4\. Tristan is singing “Closing Time” by Semisonic.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> NNNEEEERRRRDDDSSS.

_-Domino City, 2016-_

Yugi wasn’t sure what he expected from Atem’s home, but a rented property in the old WWII-era covert on the edge of town wasn’t it. The pavilion and surrounding greenspace were fairly generous, until you considered it had to shelter two heavyweights; the house was positively modest.

Tristan approved. “It’s a good spot,” he said to Gandora as they both circled in for a landing. “High on the hill, good for fast takeoffs, good visibility. Defensible.”

“You know, not everybody thinks like an ex-cop,” Gandora pointed out.

“De facto bodyguards for a pair of foreign dignitaries should.”

“I’m pretty sure Mana is her own bodyguard, and Atem’s,” Yugi said. The dragon in question was hunkered down on the grass, balancing her snout on the edge of a large firepit. There was what looked like a huge clay pot on one side of the pit, and multiple hunks of meat mounted on a spit crossing it. As they landed, white flames leapt from the pit several feet above ground-level before subsiding.

Mana turned her head toward the house and called, “Okay, I warmed it up!” before trotting over to them. _“Em hotep,_  friends!”

“Thank you for inviting us!” Yugi said. He and Joey handed over their  _omiyage:_ party snacks they would probably help eat later. 

“Are the others far behind you?”

“Ryou is coming up the hill with Bakura, and Kujaku wanted to stop at the liquor store on her way,” said Joey.

Mana sighed. “What I wouldn’t give for a keg of proper Egyptian beer.”

“Or even just a bottle,” Atem remarked, coming out of the house carrying a huge platter of what looked like lumps of bread dough. His glasses were on, his hair tied back, his bare forearms dusted with flour.

He was wearing an apron.

Yugi was seized by a vision of himself dropping to his knees and ducking his head under the apron to get inside Atem’s pants; or shoving them down and fondling Atem from behind, making him lean back into Yugi’s chest for support while the smooth plane of the apron rose into a cute little tent; or just fucking _ripping the whole thing off_ and all of Atem’s clothes too, laying him out and covering him with whipped cream and cleaning it off with his _tongue-_

He shook his head, hard, then looked around to see if anyone had noticed his break from reality. Gandora, Tristan, and Mana were all over at the firepit, watching with interest as Atem slapped rounds of dough onto the inner walls of the clay pot - of the oven, as it turned out.

Joey was looking at him knowingly.

“Don’t you judge me,” Yugi warned under his breath.

“I’m not saying nothin’.”

“You don’t have to. That’s your judgy face, and I don’t deserve it. Look at him! Just _look!”_ he hissed. Atem was now bending over to deposit dough deeper in the oven, his pants pulled tight over his ass as it bobbed in the air.

“I’m lookin’,” Joey said, sounding resigned. “And yeah, he’s cute as a button. I don’t blame you for wantin’ to smooch his face.”

Yugi sighed. _Not just his face._

Dinner was amazing. The meat turned out to be beef, that Slifer had apparently slaughtered himself that afternoon. Mahaad finally emerged from the house with two pots of sauce, a large one which he slopped over the huge hunks of meat for the dragons, and a smaller one that he painted onto the smaller piece, both of which he let caramelize before removing the meat from the heat. The smaller portion (still an entire sirloin tip) he carved into delicate slices, and he and Atem distributed it to everyone on the puffy, fresh-from-the-oven rounds of bread. To go with it there was some kind of chopped salad full of tomatoes, cucumbers, and mint, and actual fresh-squeezed lemonade.

Yugi wound up lying flat on his back on the grass, cradling his distended stomach. He wasn’t the only one.

“I feel like I got punched out by my own greed,” Joey moaned.

“Kujaku,” Téa called, “I’ll understand if you don’t want to train _pas de deux_ for a couple of days.”

Kujaku finished sucking dry a bag of wine in a box and tossed it onto the pile beside her. “I lugged twice your body weight in drinks here along with you, kiddo. I’m a lightweight, not a weakling.”

Bakura sized up the pile of crumpled wine boxes in awe. “Nobody would ever dare to call you either one. Teach me your ways, wine-mom senpai.”

“Do not teach him your ways,” said Ryou firmly.

When they could move again, they found Mahaad and Atem already setting up the Mazes & Monsters mat.

“You look - really familiar with that,” Yugi remarked.

Mahaad placed four monster figurines on the mat and affixed loops of coathanger wire to two of them - standard handles for dragons. “We are,” he said with a little smirk.

Bakura looked at the sheafs of paper in his hand. “So, you won’t be needing these presets, then.” He shrugged and stuck them back in his folder. Knowing Bakura, they were probably all surprisingly well-crafted characters with dick joke names.

Mana and Atem’s monsters turned out to be a Dark Magician Girl and Black Luster Soldier, while Slifer and Mahaad fielded a Maha Vailo and a _ridiculously_ high-level Illusion Magician.

Yugi noticed Ryou surveying the even dozen figurines on the board once everything was set up. Along with the four Egyptian characters, there were his White Mage and Bakura’s Diabound; Kujaku’s Harpy Lady and Téa’s Magician of Faith; Tristan and Joey’s Lava and Swamp Battleguards; and of course, Gandora and Yugi’s Silent Swordsman and Magician. Like the rest of their friends, Yugi let Ryou and Bakura hold onto the figurines for him; it was easier than trying to remember them every game night.

“Far be it from me to direct our esteemed dungeon master,” said Ryou, “but may I point out that we have the numbers for more than a simple party? We could, in fact, field a-”

“A raid,” finished Bakura, flipping open a tome thicker than any of their school textbooks. “Way ahead of you, old man.”

The raid was _really_ fun. Four hours later when the imaginary 'Zorc Necrophades' finally went down (with terrifying vocal effects courtesy of Ryou), even Atem forgot himself enough to jump to his feet. Screaming, Joey and Yugi slammed their chests together and fell back on the grass winded. Téa rolled her eyes at them and high-fived everyone else.

“I can’t believe you finally convinced me to upgrade my Illusion Magician to a Dark Magician,” said Mahaad, looking glumly at the monster’s bestiary page. “Look at that purple hair! So tasteless.”

Téa pointed out, “You could always upgrade him again to a Magician of Black Chaos?”

 _“He_ looks like Edward Scissorhands!”

“That’s the _dream!”_ Yugi exclaimed.

Atem placed his hand on Mahaad’s shoulder. “Your sacrifice won the day, Mahaad,” he said with exaggerated gravity, “we will not soon forget it.”

Mahaad looked at Atem with slitted eyes and snatched his hairtie, causing the whole mass to spring back into its usual wild disarray. Atem squawked and tried to grab it back, and the two ended up tussling.

At one point, Atem’s shirt got rucked up, and though he yanked it back down within seconds, Yugi still got an eyeful of his back. It was just as lean and muscular as the rest of him, brown skin looking like it held the very warmth of the sun, and normally that would be plenty to dwell on - but Yugi also couldn’t help but glimpse a large patch of skin between his shoulderblades that looked oddly rough in texture, with sharply-defined edges. He recognized it from paging through Mom’s nursing school textbooks with Joey and Téa, trying to gross themselves out: it looked like a healed skin graft. He also realized that of all the times he’d tried not to notice Atem changing in the locker room, Atem always, _always_ changed facing the rest of the room, not facing his locker.

For once, he had the brains to keep his mouth shut. He glanced at the others, but no one else looked like they’d seen.

After everything was cleared away, they got to talking about the upcoming tournament. It was the biggest one of the year, because it happened over summer break - which applied to universities, too, so even Slifer and Mahaad would be able to attend.

“Are you gonna compete?” asked Joey. “I know you can’t be part of the Domino High team, but you could still represent the city.”

“Sure, if I haven’t gone blind looking at electrophoresis gels by then,” Mahaad sighed.

“Yes!” cheered Slifer.

“You’ll need to come out and train once classes are over,” Atem pointed out, “practice looking at things more than four feet away.”

“Very funny coming from someone who can’t see anything _less_ than four feet away.”

“I can see things up close! Just not... small things, like writing.”

Atem’s expression as he bickered amiably with Mahaad made Yugi’s chest ache. Seeing how he was when he was at ease brought home just how much Yugi was on the outside looking in, separated by whatever it was about Yugi that freaked Atem out. Sometimes it lifted, and Yugi was treated to precious moments of real conversation, or, even rarer, shy personal revelation. But sooner or later Atem always turned red and stopped talking, and usually retreated. _If I was your boyfriend,_ Yugi thought, _I could hold your hand or kiss you until you felt better. But what if what makes you feel so bad is knowing how much I want to be your boyfriend, and you not wanting the same thing?_

“The summer tournament has an exhibition event,” Bakura said offhandedly. “It’s not for points, just inter-city dick measuring. Who would kick whose ass in actual combat kind of thing. _Mom_ here,” he jerked a thumb at Ryou, “comes out every year to suck up half the harbor and do a huge fountain. Gandora does her zappy thing _sans_ lenses, Tristan and Kisara do a routine with ball lightning. Are you in?”

“How close is it to the spectators?” asked Slifer.

“Not very,” said Ryou. “Perhaps half a mile?”

“I could face away and shatter some rubble,” Slifer mused.

“Rubble they got,” Joey confirmed. “The city drags all kinds of junk out there to be demolished.”

“What about you, Mana?” asked Téa. “Are you in?”

“No.” Mana’s voice was uncharacteristically flat.

“Fire-breathers are so rare, though,” said Kujaku, “you’d have the competition quaking in their scales!”

“Yeah, what’s the big deal?” said Tristan. “You used your fire on the firepit earlier today.”

“A tiny amount, with Ate- with everyone at a safe distance. I don’t use it in earnest unless I have to. Not after- the answer is no.” She turned to Atem. “I feel like flying before bed.”

“I’ll come with you,” he said immediately, scrambling up her harness. They were gone in seconds.

“What was that about?” asked Joey.

Mahaad said, “Mana… had to use her fire before she was ready. It went very badly. Now she won’t use its full force outside of a life-or-death situation. I ask you, as her friends, not to bring it up again with either her or Atem.” He looked each of them in the eye in turn until they nodded, even Bakura (who looked as sombre as Yugi had ever seen him).

“Now then,” he said briskly, in a clear change of subject, “it is getting late. You’re all welcome to stay over; we have bedding enough for everyone.” His sidelong glance at Yugi suggested that Atem had passed on at least part of the message about Joey.

When everyone else had gone to sleep (even Téa was allowed by her parents to stay over, bedded down outside in Kujaku’s feathers), Yugi found himself lying awake. He never slept very well his first night in a strange place. Plus Mahaad was still up; light filtered down the stairs, and Yugi could hear typing and muttering. He couldn’t make out the words, but from the tone he would have said it sounded like swearing - though that couldn’t be right, of course.

Eventually there were wingbeats outside. Yugi pretended to be asleep, watching through slitted eyes as Atem crept into the house and up the stairs. He spoke quietly with Mahaad for a little while - again, Yugi couldn’t make out the words - and then there were washing-up noises, and then - he crept back down the stairs again? Only now he was wearing nothing but a pair of shorts (Yugi almost swallowed his tongue), and carrying a blanket, a book, and a flashlight.

Yugi waited until he couldn’t stand it anymore, then followed as quietly as he could. He made a beeline for Gandora’s section of the greenspace surrounding the pavilion, in hopes of shushing her if she saw him, but none of the dragons stirred in the least. He slid under her wing and then peered around the edge of it.

Atem was nestled between Mana’s forelegs, just beside her snout. He had the book propped on his knees, and he was reading it aloud. Now Yugi _could_ clearly make out the words, but he didn’t understand a single one. He had heard enough Arabic from the Egyptians by now to know that wasn’t it, so the language he was hearing must be Coptic. It was slow and sonorous, with heavily-breathed h’s and rolling r’s. Atem’s deep voice and serious manner made it sound even more ancient.

It struck Yugi then, that Mana was the seventeenth Tunin-Ra, genetically identical to every one that came before her. How many times had this scene played out: the golden heavyweight, sheltering her chosen favorite as their voice rang out in this language, or its predecessors? Did it ring in her blood and bones, echoes stretching back centuries - millennia, even? _Yugi_ had goosebumps, so he felt sure it must be an even stronger sensation for her.

At any rate, it must have brought her comfort, because at length her eyes drifted shut. Atem noticed, but he only shifted his weight and continued reading, his voice getting slower and softer until his head dipped back and the flashlight rolled from his hand. 

Yugi waited until they both seemed very deeply asleep, then tiptoed forward and shut off the flashlight. He hesitated, then, heart in his throat, he pulled the blanket up over Atem’s shoulders before retreating to the house.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. em hotep: “in peace”
> 
> 2\. omiyage: traditional gift when visiting someone's house, especially for the first time. 
> 
> 3\. Just as I am relentlessly cribbing canon Temeraire dragon breeds, I am now also directly lifting Duel Monsters creatures for the thinly-veiled D&D analogue.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mahaad met Slifer on one of the worst days of *his* life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Violence and trauma (both physical and emotional) ahead.

_-Cairo, 2012-_

Atem paced, feeling like a caged animal. “We have to _do_ something! We can’t just sit here!”

“You _are_ doing something,” Mahaad insisted. “By remaining hidden, you and Her Highness remove yourselves from play as hostages, freeing up resources that would otherwise be needed for your protection, or worse, retrieval.”

Mana snorted. The air around her nostrils shimmered with heat. “I pity anyone who tries to take me or mine hostage!” With an arch look at Mahaad, she added, “That includes you, by the way. Don’t think I didn’t see what you tried to do there. You’re as high-value _and stuck_ as me and Atem, and don’t you forget it.”

“What Mana said,” Atem chimed in, not breaking stride.

They were saved by the ringing of Atem’s phone.

“It’s Mother.” He put it on speaker for all three of them to hear.

“Atem, Mana, Mahaad, are you all still safe?” Mother was barely intelligible over the rushing of the wind; she must have been aloft on Muhra.

“We are, Kema,” Mana confirmed. “We have seen no activity anywhere near us.”

“That’s good. I hate to do this, but a vibration alert has gone off in the incubator at Sky Camp 14-C.”

“The covert with the Lung Tien cross egg,” Mahaad said, horrified. Atem knew he went up to the concealed covert multiple times a week to check up on the egg, change its radio stations, and - Atem hoped - simply spend time with it.

“The very same. There are no reports of hostile activity in the area, but the covert’s skeleton crew was pulled to deal with - this. Mana is the closest dragon.”

 _“You will exercise extreme caution,”_ thundered Muhra’s voice from a distance. _“Is that understood?”_

“Yes, Mother!” said Mana eagerly. “Kema, tell her yes.”

 _“She says yes, she understands!”_ Mother shouted, muffled like her hand was over the speaker. “That goes for you too, Atem. Listen to everything Mahaad says, alright? Oh, my baby boy, Shu speed you, Bastet guard you. Be safe.”

Atem swallowed. “You too, Mother.”

_“Kema, we must dive now!”_

“Call me when you’re safe again,” Mother ordered, then hung up.

Mahaad raked shaking hands through his hair, then drew in and blew out a single deep breath. “We need Mana’s full harness, our harnesses, netting and blankets for the egg - or the dragonet. Flashlights. You already have your vest on, right?”

Atem peeled back part of his shirt to show his bulletproof vest, the same kind Mahaad was wearing. Mahaad nodded sharply. “Alright. Let’s do this.”

Their location was well-supplied and organized. They were flying towards the covert in less than twenty minutes, rushing just above ground level. The landscape whipped by with dizzying speed.

“Should I have gone high instead of low?” Mana wondered.

“I think it’s too late to switch now,” Atem replied.

“Anyway, going high would waste more time on ascent and descent,” Mahaad pointed out.

They gained some altitude as they approached the low hills that concealed the covert. The outbuildings were all nondescript boxes in the dim dusk light. Mahaad had to direct Mana to the right one.

 _“Ya Allah!”_ he said. There was a Jeep parked outside.

“Mana,” said Atem, “stay back.”

“No!”

“You are more recognizable than us. If they panic they could hurt the egg.”

Mana growled her displeasure, but landed some distance back. Mahaad said, “Stay back with Mana, Atem. That’s an _order.”_

Fuming with anxiety, Atem pounded Mana’s hide with his fist as he watched Mahaad jog up to the open front door of the building. The indistinct shape of him crouched outside for a long time before venturing inside. His flashlight flickered, and there was a muffled exclamation. A minute later he came trotting around the side of the building; he must have gone out the back door. He waved for them to come closer.

“What did you find?” asked Mana.

“Two dead men and an empty shell,” Mahaad said grimly.

“Can I see?” asked Atem. Not long ago, he would have been upset at the idea of dead bodies just on principle. After the last few weeks, he was inclined to agree with Mana: anyone trying to hurt his family was fair game.

“No.”

“The dragonet must have hatched when they tried to move the egg,” said Mana. “The poor thing must have been so scared!”

Atem realized something awful. “If they flew down out of the hills, we might never find them.” His stomach hurt, thinking of Mana’s little brother or sister getting lost in the desert.

Mahaad said, “That’s one of the reasons concealed hatching sites keep a small herd of goats. I saw prints leading in that direction; come on.”

With Mahaad pointing them out, Atem could see the marks of small, clawed feet and a long, winding tail, in between long gaps of nothing where the owner of both was not touching the ground. As they drew closer to the herd’s enclosure they could hear a commotion of frenzied bleating.

As they crested the last hill, a surreal scene revealed itself in the gloom. Most of the goats milled frantically in one corner of the large fenced field, but one was being forcibly dragged away from them by a dark, winged, serpentine shape only slightly bigger than the goat. Judging by their twisting and flapping, they did _not_ outweigh the goat, and were only outmuscling it by sheer determination.

“What is he _doing?”_ said Mana, bewildered.

“He’s… taking it out of sight of the others,” Mahaad answered, “as is recommended when possible.”

When he had gone as far as he could go, the dragonet pinned the thrashing goat to the ground. He was some ways away, but he could still be heard clearly saying, _“Bismillah,”_ before emitting the most terrible roar Atem had ever heard. He clapped his hands to his ears. Mahaad did the same; even Mana flinched. The goat went limp, and the dragonet hunched over it like a vulture.

Cautiously Atem uncovered his ears. They rang, but the horrible cacophony was over. “What _was_ that?”

Mahaad said, “It sort of sounded like the Divine Wind, but Lung Tiens can’t produce that until adulthood. The men in the incubation room _did_ have dried blood coming from their ears, though, so maybe…”

“Mother will have _fits_ if it is,” Mana commented. “Also, it seems you won him over to your faith before he even hatched. What did you read him, the Qur'an?”

“And all the better hadiths.” Mahaad looked defensive. “You both urged me to share my mind with the egg!”

“And we’re pleased you did,” said Atem quickly, “right, Mana?”

“Right,” said Mana. The smile in her voice said she thought the whole thing was highly amusing _._ “This bodes well for the dragonet choosing you for a companion, which means I shan’t lose you to Mother’s retinue, so I am _very_ pleased. What else did you teach him?”

“Well, I rotated the radio through Coptic, Arabic, English, Japanese,” he nodded to Mana and Atem, “and Mandarin and Cantonese, since the sire was from China. And I worked on my master's thesis up here, but,” he started to look concerned, “I certainly hope he didn’t hear what I said about _that.”_

The dragonet popped up behind them, startling them all badly, and recited, “A red-assed thousand failed fucking attempts at global analysis of that rotten scrote, the small RNA transcriptome, in all the shitting ploidies and genomic combinations, fuck my fucking life, of a vertebrate complex, the son of a shoe _Varanus_ _komodoensis,_ because I am a cursed masochist, apparently.”

 _“Mahaad,”_ Atem said, nearly levitating with glee, “does your _mother_ know you know those words? Does _my_ mother?”

“...Ah,” said Mahaad faintly, “so you have very good hearing, then.”

“If you say so,” said the dragonet.

Mahaad cleared his throat. “I’ve done you a disservice. Some of those words should not be repeated.”

“Can we talk about that later?” The dragonet abruptly sounded as young as he was, and like his composure was fraying fast. His voice cracked bizarrely into two identical voices, demanding simultaneously, “What/Who-the/the-fuck/fuck-is/were- _happening/_ those men?!”

“How are you doing that?” asked Mana.

Atem finally thought to turn on his flashlight and aim it at the dragonet, and they all gasped.

“Your mouth!” said Mana.

“What about it?”

“You have two,” said Atem.

“Is that not the normal number?”

“Not generally.” Atem played the flashlight over his face and Mahaad’s, then Mana’s.

“That must be how you can already produce a Divine Wind analogue,” mused Mahaad. “If the destructive resonance forms just outside your mouths instead of inside a chamber in your throat or chest-"

“None of this explains _what is going on!”_

“Oh. Yes, fair enough. In brief: Prime Minister Khnurn has behaved badly. The people of Egypt are staging a coup. The Pharaoh is helping. In the current chaos, you have potential value as a hostage, as do Mana and Atem.” Atem elbowed him sharply, and he admitted, “and to a lesser extent, myself.”

Mana said, “We came to remove you to a safer location with us. Have you had enough to eat?”

“Yes. That was my second goat.”

Where was he _putting_ it all? The dragonet was bigger than Mana was when she hatched, due to his very long body and wings, but his chest and abdomen were narrower than Atem remembered Mana’s being. Perhaps his insides were elongated, like a snake’s.

He was cut off from this line of thought by the dragonet going on to say, “We should go soon. I think the men who tried to take me radioed for help before I - stopped them. I also think I hear more machines like the first one.”

They all fell silent and looked toward the road. Sure enough, there was a distant rumble of engines and flicker of headlights.

Clipping in to Mana’s harness wouldn’t have taken long on its own, but first the dragonet had to be persuaded to come aboard.

“I can fly just fine!” He launched and flew a respectable swooping circle in the air as evidence.

“You can, but we are going to fly far and fast,” said Mana, “and not only did you just hatch; you also just hunted. If you’re not tired yet, you will be soon.”

Mahaad lowered his voice and said, “Please. _I_   am asking.”

The dragonet harrumphed, but allowed himself to be rolled up in a blanket and stowed in the netting against Mana’s belly. As they climbed aboard themselves, Atem nudged Mahaad and hissed, “Congratulations on your dragon!”

“Congratulate me when we get out of here,” Mahaad said, watching the growing line of headlights worriedly.

Mana had barely taken off when the bullets started to fly. She twisted one way to keep her belly out of the line of fire, then the other to protect Mahaad and Atem on her back. Both maneuvers slowed her efforts to gain height. Then a rocket screamed past her shoulder.

“The last truck has a launcher in the back!” Atem shouted.

“I can’t climb like this,” Mana said desperately. “I need to clear them out.”

“You can’t bowl them over, they’re too well-armed,” Mahaad pointed out.

“I can burn them. Shield your eyes. Especially you, little brother.” She banked just past the line of vehicles, taking in a huge breath, and then roared as she flew back over them. A white jet of flame streamed from her mouth and splashed over the Jeeps and trucks. The amount of gunfire decreased by half, and screams began to rise in its place.

Mana was able to gain some actual elevation as she wheeled and prepared for another pass. Just as she did, the dragonet screeched from below.

“Ow, ow! Help! Get me out of this thing!”

“I think a stray shot got him,” said Mana. “He’s thrashing; he needs to stop!”

“I’m coming!” Mahaad started making his way around and down to the netting, clipping his carabiners as wide and fast as he dared.

“I need to take out that rocket launcher,” Mana said, mostly to herself. “One more pass.”

Atem had a very strange moment of what could almost be called precognition. He saw the truck with the rocket launcher at the rear of the company, and he saw how Mana would drop her lower body as she was wont to do when reversing direction quickly. He saw how, focused on training fire on the truck, and with an unfamiliar load protruding from her lower body, her fire might clip the netting and-

Time slowed to a crawl. Atem started moving around to her front, not as far down as Mahaad. There was no point trying to make his voice heard when Mana was roaring forth the wrath of Ra.

He was nearly there when she passed the truck and began to reverse, just as Atem pictured. Desperately, he all but jumped to a spot near the top of the netting and clipped in one last time.

Mahaad, who had been focused on the dragonet, looked up at him in surprise that swiftly turned to horror as he saw what Atem had seen, the vertical angle they were moving to as Mana swung around. “Atem, no!”

“Atem _yes,”_ he retorted, and then he knew nothing but a blast of agony at his back like he never could have imagined, and then mercifully he knew nothing at all.

* * *

“Thank you, doctor.” Kema stayed in the room after the trauma physician left, calling Aknamkanon and the elder Sahirs, who would relay her message to Muhra and Mana. She wanted to go and sit with Atem, but there was still too much work going on for bedside-sitting to be an option yet, and she had someone else she needed to check in with - two someones. She went looking for the younger Sahir, certain that the dragonet would be with him.

Sure enough, Mahaad was hunched in a chair in a corner of the waiting room. The dragonet was so long and flexible he lapped Mahaad’s torso twice, coils of shocking red under the fluorescent lights. His wings - one bandaged - were spread protectively over Mahaad’s back. His two mouths (which in a sane time would be all anyone could talk about and cause for significant medical investigation themselves, but had been back-burnered to put it mildly) made his demeanor hard to read, but Kema thought he looked distrustful. Mahaad was clearly his person, and clearly in distress, so his instincts would be screaming at him to hide Mahaad away somewhere the dragonet could control what was happening.

_I think we all wish that, little one._

“Mahaad,” she murmured as she sat down beside him. The boy lifted his head and dragged his gaze around to her, sluggish and vague, disturbing to see in someone usually as precise and graceful as a great heron. His hollow expression sent another pang through Kema’s already-aching chest. Of course he would respond by imploding. Of course.

“How is he, ma’am?” Israa Sahir’s son would remember his manners at the end of the universe.

“Sedated. Still having work done. The Kevlar vest took the brunt of the blast, but it gave way at the point of impact. He has a full-thickness burn between his shoulderblades that will require a skin graft.”

Mahaad took these words like blows, expressionless, but going somehow even paler than he already was. “And Mana?”

“Distraught. Medics are still pulling bullets out of her, but she’s too distracted to help them look. They’ve resorted to metal detectors.” Kema would have the same worry about Mahaad - right now he looked like he wouldn’t notice a harpoon through his gut - but the dragonet would have noted any wound on ‘his’ human and raised hell. Any physical wound, anyway; it fell to Kema to stanch the emotional one before the boy bled out.

“Mahaad. I don’t blame you for what happened.”

 _Now_ he flinched. “It should have been me,” he whispered. “I stopped monitoring, I failed to predict…”

The innermost circle of the Egyptian royal family was full of open secrets. Muhra’s discreet matings with a huge variety of male dragons were one; the viable eggs that occasionally resulted were another. It was similarly unspoken but understood that Mahaad Sahir was a prodigy, a genius on a scale so excessive that no one quite knew what to do with him. He was more or less left to his own devices, everyone just relieved that he seemed happy enough dropping genetics papers like depth charges and being Atem’s best friend. But sometimes, like now, that self-direction had drawbacks.

“Don’t do that, Mahaad; don’t blame yourself. Should I blame myself for sending the three of you, _unarmed,_ into a situation with so many unknowns?” She did, but he didn’t need to know that. “Should we blame Mana for not having drilled 180-degree turns, while firing, with a bulky load in front?”

He shook his head. “No, of course not. But-”

“But nothing. You’re a smart boy, but you’re not clairvoyant. No one expects you to be. Don’t put that on yourself. You kept everyone aboard by repairing the netting where it gave way. You stopped Atem from going into shock. You helped Mana find the nearest operational trauma centre in the middle of a revolution. You did all this _in the air.”_ She gripped his shoulder. “You saved my son. Thank you, Mahaad.”

His eyes welled up, and he scrubbed at them fiercely with his sleeve, seeming suddenly much younger than eighteen.

Kema took mercy on him and changed the subject. “You also saved Muhra’s newest scion; no one else could have gotten to him in time.” She was going to need to remind herself of that fact many times in the near future; burn treatment was no picnic. “Speaking of, we have not been properly introduced. What’s your name, little fellow?”

The dragonet inclined his head in a draconic pout. “He won’t give me one. He says he doesn’t deserve to.”

“Would you have any other for a partner?”

"No!" He tightened his coils around Mahaad, who wheezed.

“Then it falls to you to name him, Mahaad. None of us are truly worthy of a dragon’s loyalty; the point is to try to be anyway.”

Mahaad sighed; he never had relinquished his tight returning grip on the dragonet. “Slifer.”

“A pleasure to meet you, Slifer. I wish it was under better circumstances.”

“Likewise, Lady Sennen.”

“That’s Kema to you.” She chatted with Slifer a little longer, taking the measure of him. He was about what Kema would expect from an egg incubated in an environment planned by Mahaad, aside from a peculiar hesitation in word choice from time to time.

When she got up and left to check on Atem, she heard Slifer say quietly behind her, “Hey, Mahaad."

“Yes?”

“Shit piss fuck cunt cocksucker motherfucker and tits.”

Mahaad snorted a wet laugh.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. Shu: god of wind and sky
> 
> 2\. Bastet: moon goddess of protection
> 
> 3\. Slifer is Muhra’s son, but since Muhra and Mana are genetically identical, he’s also technically speaking Mana’s son. But relationally he’s Mana’s baby brother.
> 
> 4\. Ya Allah: "Oh my God"
> 
> 5\. You may have noticed Mana can tell the sex of a newborn dragon at a glance in the dark. Draconic explanations of how they manage this are about as satisfying as human explanations of gender roles. 
> 
> 6\. Bismillah: “In the name of God”, which (according to my research) must be uttered before slaughtering an animal in order for the meat to be halal. 
> 
> 7\. Hadith: supplementary documents informing Islamic practices. As far as I can tell they are considered... important but debatable? And of varying quality. 
> 
> 8\. George Carlin’s seven words you can’t say on TV had to make an appearance in a chapter (partially) about swearing.
> 
> 9\. No I don't know how a bony 12yo sustained a full-thickness burn to his back without damaging any vertebrae shh just go with it. It's only there to give him a bitchin' scar, and to give poor Mahaad a big ol' wiggins.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Girl( dragon)s just wanna have fun.

_-Domino City, 2016-_

“Good morning, Mr. Mutou,” said Mana, “are Yugi and Gandora home?”

“They’ve gone up to the _onsen,”_ said Yugi’s grandfather. “Gandora’s shedding.”

That was good; Gandora _had_ looked just a tad less lustrous during the last days before summer break. And nothing felt better than peeling and scraping one’s old skin off until the shiny new one was fully exposed. “Do you think they would mind if we joined them?”

“Not at all! And the Domino _onsen_ is a very fine one; have you been?” Mana had not, so she let the old man give her directions.

When they were on their way again, Mana said slyly to Atem, “Just think! You might get to see Yugi in a bathing suit - or even naked!”

Atem made the amusing tea-kettle noise again. Mana knew it was verging on cruel to tease him so about his attraction, but it was hard to resist when he was so adorably human about the whole thing. Imagine being thrown into paroxysms of lust by seeing more than usual of someone’s skin!

There were half-a-dozen dragons on the shedding beach _,_ but as the only black one, Gandora was clearly visible even from the air. She was busy rolling and grinding against the stones in the shallows. Yugi stood well-clear up on the land, holding a hard-bristled push broom. While he wasn’t wearing a bathing suit, he was stripped down to shorts and a black sleeveless tshirt that exposed his arms - similar to Atem’s, which is to say respectably muscular for his age but hopelessly scrawny by adult standards, at least as Mana understood it - and made his wrist cuffs and collar more visible than usual.

“I like all the black and silver Yugi wears when he doesn’t have to wear his school uniform,” she told Atem as they descended. “They complement his pale skin and coordinate well with Gandora. In their own way the two of them look almost as good as you and I.” More could be done with more resources, of course: uniting their eyes with red amethysts and purple tourmalines, perhaps strung on nested chains of platinum… but as Mother had impressed upon her _vigorously,_ one must never give fashion advice the recipient cannot afford to follow, and almost no one could afford the fashions available to the Crown. Yugi and Gandora did very well for themselves. But it was in Mana’s nature to play the long game, and if this courtship had the best possible outcome and they joined her retinue someday, she would have some _fun_ dressing them up.

Even more fun than she was about to have today.

“Good morning!” she called as she landed. “Happy shedding, Gandora!”

“You can say that again,” Gandora groaned luxuriously as Yugi attacked her armpit with the broom. A flap of old skin came loose under his attentions, and he knelt on her chest and pulled on it with his hands. He kept up steady pressure close to her skin, and peeled off a strip nearly twice the length of his own body before it became ragged and broke free. Yugi tossed it in the direction of the already-towering pile on the shore.

Mana sighed. “Nothing feels like that.”

“Considering the number of shedding videos you watch on Youtube, I believe it,” said Atem.

“Ha!” Yugi laughed. “Mana does that too?”

“It’s the next best thing to having a good shed yourself,” Gandora protested.

“And here I thought dragon porn was jewelry websites,” Yugi teased. “Oh man, there’s a marketing idea: shed videos featuring scrubs that look like gemstones!”

Gandora chuckled. “Put some banner ads on those, we’d be eating _otoro_ at every meal.”

Mana raised her wing and nudged Atem with the edge, since she couldn’t very well tell him to make a note of that out loud.

“Speaking of scrubs, can you feel any more big strips or patches, girl?” Yugi asked.

“No,” replied Gandora, “just the usual flakes around my nodes. But the scrub always works best on those anyway.”

Mana watched with interest as Yugi dipped the broom into a huge bucket of off-white goop and started painting it over Gandora’s body in broad strokes, not the rough back-and-forth scraping of before. “What’s in that?”

“No gemstones today,” Yugi said, “just the _onsen’s_ blend of salt, mineral oil, and beeswax. Get all the little flakes off and some protection on at the same time.”

“That’s efficient. At home I do a dry sand scrub myself, then a soap rinse, then oil and wax. Of course at my size, Atem has to use a mechanical spray wand, or we’d be there all day.”

“Car wash technology,” Atem commented, “good for cars, good for dragons.” Yugi laughed again, and Mana turned her head and gaped happily at Atem, who was blushing but looked pleased with himself nonetheless.

Gandora was a smaller middleweight, probably just over ten tons; Yugi didn’t need too terribly long to cover her in the scrub, even when he spread it gently onto her wing webbing with sweeps of his bare hands. Finally Gandora waded out into the deeper water, shaking violently as she rolled over and over, turning the water around her into grey froth. When she emerged Mana gasped.

“Spectacular!” she exclaimed. “As dark as the void, as luminous as the stars within it!”

“See?” Yugi said with his hands on his hips. “Mana thinks you look pretty too.”

“Agreed,” Atem chimed in, clearly catching on that this was a moment to build up someone who looked a bit different.

“Superb! Stunning! Atem, take a picture!”

Gandora curled her tail bashfully but didn’t try to stop Atem, only saying, “At least let me put something behind me that isn’t old skin.” Mana allowed that this was fair, and they shuffled until Gandora had a charming backdrop of woods and water and the traditionalist architecture of the human side of the _onsen._ Atem took many pictures with his phone, and finally said, “That should be good. Shall I send you copies of the best ones, Yugi?”

“Yes, please.”

As Gandora stretched her wings to dry them in the sun, she asked, “Not that we don’t appreciate the company, but what brings you up here on the first day of summer break?”

“Two things!” said Mana. “First, those visible-light lenses Kisara had made are ready.” Atem unstrapped the carrying case for the array and hefted it as illustration. “I, ah, took the liberty of commissioning a few additions to the design. Would you like to try them on now?”

“Would I!” Atem slid down and helped Yugi place the dozens of lenses, watching Yugi carefully and copying him. The metallic rims, more obvious than they needed to be, looked as nice as Mana had hoped. They came close to overlapping, highlighting the orderly germline progression of Gandora’s nodes and turning them into jeweled stripes.

“Okay, now activate them!” she said, swishing her tail.

Gandora flexed the way she usually did when triggering an infrared pulse from her duelling lenses - and started in surprise as these ones lit up a brilliant cherry red and stayed that way. “It really does look like Christmas lights!” she said.

“Hee, just wait! Tap the big lens on your chest.”

Gandora did so, and gasped as each tap cycled the lenses through green, blue, and finally a strobing rainbow of all three colors.

“You can double-tap quickly to turn it off saved at a specific setting. It’s all even better at night, of course, but I just couldn’t wait.”

“Mana…” Gandora sounded overwhelmed. “This is amazing. Thank you. I need to thank Kisara and Kaiba as well.”

“I’m sure Kaiba would take thanks better from Kisara than from anyone else. Speaking of, that’s the second thing I came by for: I was hoping to take you shopping with Kisara and Kujaku. Just us girls.” She looked at Yugi. “Will you be alright without a ride?”

“Oh sure, the _onsen_ has a shuttle back into town, and I brought my wallet with me to get in in the first place. You go have fun, Gandora! Don’t blind anybody with your new lights!” As Mana and Gandora took off, Yugi turned to the pile of old skin and the bucket of scrub (half-empty, but still heavy) on the shore of the shedding beach and sighed. Mana heard him say, “I should have gotten their help cleaning up first.”

“I can help,” Atem said quickly. Good boy; he knew an opportunity when Mana handed one to him on a silver platter.

Gandora eyed her as they flew back towards Domino. “I know what you’re doing,” she said.

“Oh?”

“You think Yugi and Atem should mate.”

“I am found out,” she said airily. “Don’t you agree?”

“Yes,” Gandora admitted. “Atem is the only grown human I know as tiny and adorable as my Yugi. When I think of them together I want to scream at how cute they would be.”

“Right?! If I saw them holding each other’s itty-bitty hands I think I would die.”

“Or bringing each other little human gifts, like flowers.”

“Aaagh!” Only a barrel roll could do justice to Mana’s feelings. “If they weren’t both so oblivious that could be happening already!”

“They say it’s important to let humans decide these things in their own time.”

Mana sighed. “I know, I know. Like hatching on one’s own.”

Gandora hesitated, then said in an odd voice, “I needed help to hatch.”

Mana could have self-immolated on the spot. “And I’m so glad you got help! Your company is far worthier than any old chestnut. I do apologize.”

“Apology accepted. But what I was getting at is that sooner or later, it may be justifiable to at least help them along with the information that they both want each other.”

“Don’t tempt me,” Mana groaned. “I don’t trust myself at _all_ to know when that moment has truly arrived versus when I can’t take the pining any longer.”

Gandora sighed gustily. “Humans,” she said.

“Just so. But look, there are some sensible people!” Kisara’s gleaming white hide was plenty visible from the air on its own; with Kujaku’s brilliant purple and green plumage beside her, they were impossible to miss. Mana piked and dove, braking with a dramatic flare of her wings just before touching down in the little park.

There was something about Kisara that compelled Mana to show off, and not in the generous, eager ‘our captains should mate and we should be family’ way she felt around Gandora; this was a wretched defensiveness. Mana was used to being the biggest, flashiest, wealthiest dragon around (except for Mother of course). Kisara was almost as big, almost as flashy, _significantly_ wealthier, and her captain kept giving gifts to the human who had caught Atem’s eye. Mana felt threatened, and embarrassed at feeling threatened - especially when Kisara was perfectly lovely and wasn’t doing any of it on purpose.

“Gan _dor_ a, looking fresh, honey!” Kujaku drawled. “New skin, new bling - are those the lights Kisara was telling me about?”

“Yes,” Gandora said shyly, flicking them on.

“Oh! What a _show_ we could put on with those. Maybe a smoke machine to show off the beams… you’re wasted on dueling, honestly.”

“It just occurred to me that such a display, with visualized beams, would be very useful for tactical planning,” said Kisara.

Kujaku scoffed. “Give it a rest; we’re supposed to be having _fun_ today.”

“Dueling _is_ fun,” the other three chorused. Kujaku rolled her eyes.

“...What _are_ we doing today?” Gandora asked.

“Furnishing the summer tournament,” said Kisara. “It doesn’t just celebrate dueling; it also celebrates Domino. That means we want local businesses selling food and souvenirs, providing decorations, setting up game booths, et cetera.”

“And since it needs to impress dragons, it’s better if dragons do the procurement,” said Kujaku. “Humans tend to err on the side of too small and not enough bright colors.”

Gandora nodded. “Makes sense.”

“Plus we get to test out caterers on KaibaCorp’s dime!” Kujaku added slyly. Gandora oohed, and Mana writhed internally.

Several hours later, she and Kisara had to wait outside while Kujaku and Gandora inspected a proposal for an enclosure where very small human children could be minded for an hourly fee.

“Is everything alright, Mana? You seem distracted today.”

To her horror, she found herself blurting out, “Is Kaiba courting Yugi?”

Kisara stared. “Good grief, no. Seto loves his brother Mokuba, me, and winning. Period. I strongly suspect he is one of those humans who is happy _never_ taking a mate.”

Mana’s sigh of relief rattled the three storefronts closest to them.

Kisara cocked her head. “Is _Atem_ courting Yugi?”

“He _should,_ he _wants_ to, but he won’t, so I am courting Yugi _for_ him, mostly by way of Gandora. Without actually, um, telling them in so many words.”

“Hm.” Her tone was eloquently disapproving.

“I promised Atem I would show instead of tell,” Mana protested.

_“Hm.”_

“Slifer is helping me!”

“Last week we convinced Slifer dust bunnies were real animals.”

“...He’s very intelligent in other ways,” Mana muttered.

“It sounds like a lot of foolishness to me. I’m glad Seto is indifferent to the whole business.” Kisara softened this with, “But - good luck all the same. I think your boys _would_ suit.”

“Thanks, Kisara.”

Just then Gandora and Kujaku came back out of the store. “Humans take _so long_ to mature,” Gandora said dazedly. “The planned service will take ages one to eight. If I were a human I could be dumped in there for two more years!”

“That’s why it’ll be a profitable service,” said Kujaku, “the parents can go drink in peace, while the little monsters burn off some energy in the bouncy castle. Everyone reunites in a better mood.”

“I suppose,” said Gandora doubtfully, “Aside from the ones that need a nap. Can we go look at banners now?”

“Definitely!” said Mana. “And then I think it’ll be time to review another caterer, right?” Kisara nodded.

“Ooh, food!” Somehow it didn’t rankle as much this time, seeing Gandora excited by something Kisara was providing.

 _Almost like_ **_talking_** _about things makes them **better** , _ she thought pointedly at an Atem who wasn’t there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. onsen: hot springs, and (often) public baths fed by them. 
> 
> 2\. otoro: bluefin tuna belly, a very expensive sushi meat. 
> 
> 3\. The entire shedding scene is inspired by a Tumblr post I have lost track of, approving [this boobless naga](https://motherboard.vice.com/en_us/article/wjgmd5/magic-the-gathering-naga-vitalist) and then imagining that the stuff in the background is her old skin, and that she must have shed *right* before the picture was taken in order to look her absolute *prettiest*, which I thought was just so cute.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which experiments in dragon POV get even more out-there.

_-Domino City, 2010-_

“You can’t be serious, Johnson.”

“Dead serious, Mr. Kaiba. The contract is ironclad, and grounded in common sense besides. Dragon eggs incubated in an impersonal environment hatch as uncivilized ferals. If we were to let a ball-lightning-spitting feral hatch in the heart of KaibaCorp HQ, our liability would be so high we might as well show up to court already bent, spread, and lubed-up.”

“Ancient Shinto symbol of the company they said. Auspicious message to jumpy investors they said. What a disaster!”

“It doesn’t have to be. Go get a plucky orphan or something; give him private tutors in the same room as the egg. Later on we frame the kid as a hoodlum and throw him back. Poor Gozaburo Kaiba, opened his heart and home to one of the lower classes and look how his generosity was betrayed. At least he still has the loyalty of a rare Blue-Eyes White dragon, who joined his family at the same time. Click here for the heartwarming interview.”

“It’s a shithole of a world we live in, that I need your kind of help, Johnson.”

* * *

_Thud!_

“Oi, watch it with that dolly, you moron! The dragon in that egg is worth more than your neighborhood and everyone in it!”

“Sorry, Mr. Kaiba.”

“I don’t want sorry, I want no fuckups! Get out of my sight!”

_Click._

“I said plucky _orphan,_ singular, not plural!”

“The little one came as a package deal with the big one, and the big one’s a prize, Johnson. I owe you for the idea; I walked into that rat's den looking for a loophole, and came out with an apprentice.”

“He’s half- _gaijin,_ at _minimum.”_

“So? We blow people up for a living; that’s more of a qualification than a drawback.”

“Seriously, Gozaburo? You’re really going through with this? What is it about this kid that has you taking him on for real, little brother and all?”

“If I tell you, you’re to put the information under the same lid as our trip to Thailand. Agreed?”

“...Agreed.”

“He beat me at chess.”

“What?”

“This shrimpy nobody walked right up to me, maneuvered me into a chess game, and wiped the floor with me. I’d be a fool _not_ to acquire an asset like that.”

* * *

_Click._

“And these are your rooms, young masters.”

“Whaaaat! _All_ of them?” _thumpthumpthump_ **_thumpthumpthump_** … “SETO! SETO COME QUICK!”

“What is it Mokie? What’s wrong?...Oh!”

“WHAT IS THAT?! IS THAT A DRAGON EGG?!”

“Very perceptive, master Mokuba. Your stepfather has taken on incubation duties for a Blue-Eyes White dragon. Since such duties require a family environment and he is rarely home, the egg will be housed in your rooms. Please talk between yourselves as you normally would. Just be aware the dragonet can hear everything you say, and will at some point be able to understand it as well - in fact that point may well have already arrived.”

“...A Blue-Eyes White…”

“I shall let you boys settle in. Dinner is at six sharp. Please wear the new clothes you will find in your closets.” _Click._

“Seto! There’s a _dragon egg_ in our _living room!”_

“I know. I’m just having a hard time believing it.” _brush._ “It’s so warm, feel it.”

 _patpat._ “Whoooaaa. There’s a _baby dragon_ in there!”

“Dragonet.”

“Right.”

“Blue-Eyes Whites are _really_ rare. They don’t breed true; they only come from a cross, like Red-Eyes Blacks, but the cross succeeds _way_ less often.”

“How do they know that this one succeeded?”

“The shell. See how it’s sky-blue? That’s a strong sign by itself. And - hey, do you still have that little blacklight I won off Sanjuro?”

“Yeah. Why?”

“Go get it and I’ll show you something else that’s cool about the egg.”

 **_thumpthumpthump_ ** _thumpthumpthump_ **_thumpthumpthump_ ** “Here!”

“Now we turn off the overhead light and-"

“Whoooooaaaaa!”

“The way those spots light up is called fluorescence. Paired with the blue shell it’s proof that the dragonet is a Blue-Eyes White.”

“That’s _so cool.”_

* * *

_flop!_ “If I see one more textbook I’m gonna barf! I hope you’re getting more out of all this than I am, egg. It’d be hard to get less.”

“Maybe this was a mistake. I brought us here for a chance at a better life for me and Mokuba but I barely see him anymore, and now I’m not even allowed to have my games.”

 _rustle._ “...I don’t know if I can do this…”

 _Click._ “You have a few minutes left in your break, master Seto, but your brother gave me a book he borrowed from you. See that you put it in its proper place before your next lesson with your history tutor.” _Click._

“The Napoleonic Wars? We’re not covering those. Although I kind of wish we were. My dad - my real dad - he used to read us bedtime stories about William Laurence and Temeraire the Lung Tien. Even if he was making half the stories up they still had a ton of adventures.” _sigh._ “But here I’d probably have to learn about Napoleon the whole time… although, didn’t he work with a white dragon for a while? You might like to hear about that. Let’s see… oh! Hahaha!”

“Egg, I’ll have to look that stuff up in another book. Mokuba cut the pages of this one to turn it into a secret box! There’s a paper in here… oh, neat. It’s a drawing of you all hatched and grown up, with me and Mokuba riding on your back. And there’s a note on the other side:

 _Dear Seto,_  
  
_I guess you found my hiding place. Remember, big bro, they can’t take away everything from us. So enjoy my gift, but don’t let them find it!_  
  
_Love,_ _  
_ Mokie.”

 _sniff._ “I _can_ do this. I _can._ I can be tough and smart enough to use up these mean old geezers and win us a future. I _will.”_

* * *

“Seto, when is the egg going to hatch? It feels like it’s been in our rooms forever.”

“Some dragon eggs take a really long time to hatch - there are records of big ones in cold places taking up to ten years.”

“Ten _years?!_ Our egg won’t take that long though, right?”

“No, we keep ours nice and warm, so it shouldn’t take _that_ long. But it is pretty big, and while Blue-Eyes Whites are too rare for there to be much data, what there is suggests they take a couple of years at least.”

“That sounds really boring.” _patpat._ “Poor little dragon. We should make sure it gets to listen to fun things. Let’s watch a dueling match on your laptop!”

“After I finish this chapter. Mr. Utada is wrong about Benton fields, and if I can prove it maybe I can get him fired.”

“Seto… we’re supposed to be teaching our egg how to act like a person, not - like our stepdad.”

“Hmph! Fine. I’ll use it to turn one long, boring paper assignment into a short, interesting one.”

“That’s more like it.”

“About why he sucks and should quit.”

“Seto!”

* * *

_Slam!_

“God _dammit!_ Fuck, fuck, fuck that _fucker_ and all his dick-gargling sycophants! Aaaagh!”

_Crash!_

“Shit.”

 _Thud._ “I fucked up, egg. I thought I understood _Daddy dearest_ as a capitalist first and a warmonger second, but I was wrong. I was _wrong_ . I showed him a business plan to use my reactive holo-mesh to obsolete infrared sensor pads - you know, for dueling? We’d make out like fucking _bandits,_ for less startup money than the hundred mil I already earned for him flipping that company.”

“And he tore it up! He sold my mesh prototype to the military for a tenth of that! I handed over the shitty Mark I, not the Mark II, I’m not a complete rube, but still - how many times has he done that with my other inventions?”

“Egg? Do you think I - do you think I made more orphans?”

“Gozaburo and his cronies... They’re not in it for the money; that’s just a perk. They’re in it for blood and death, for power. I _have_ to stop them. I can’t just suck them dry anymore; I have to destroy them. This is bigger than me and my brother.”

* * *

“This is it. Time to lay it all on the line. I have to be a shit to Mokuba, and make him believe it, so he makes _Gozaburo_ believe it and sign off on Mokuba’s 2% of the company. Mokie will forgive me - he has to. And then with the 49% I already have, I’ll have a controlling share at last. I can do this. I’ve come too far to back down now.”

“Fuck, I don’t want to do this.”

“I can do this. I have to do this. I _will_ do this. It’s time to make my move.”

_crunch._

_“What_ the - ?”

_Crunch!_

“... I will make my move later. MOKUBA! THE EGG IS HATCHING!”

* * *

There was an excited murmur all around her. Moving was an agonizing business in the tight confines of the egg, but she could see light filtering through the cracks in the shell, and it spurred her to keep pushing.

_Crunch!_

Just one last heave, and…

_CRACK!_

Light! Light, light, light, blasting into her head! And a riot of voices, suddenly deafening - apparently the shell had muffled things a bit. She shook her head to try and clear it, and then again because the freedom to _swing her head_ was dizzying, intoxicating.

(And then a third time because it seemed to make the voices of the adult men - all known and disliked - nervous.)

As her eyes adjusted, the bright glare resolved into colours and shapes. This was the living room; she stomped her foot, and the resonance was absolutely familiar. Those lumps were the couch and chairs that Mokuba and Seto sat in, roughhoused on, and shoved around when they rearranged things. And the vertical, mobile shapes filling the room, those were humans. She started connecting the different shapes to familiar voices: Gozaburo and the Big Five. But where were her boys?

“Yaaayyy! Hi baby, hi!” Oh, there was Mokuba. She should have noticed him sooner; he was the smallest and loudest figure in the room, and he was waving his arms and jumping up and down.

“Mokie?” she said.

His eyes widened. Grey - she heard once his eyes were grey, so that was the name of that colour. “You know me?”

“Of course. Where’s Seto?”

He pointed. “Right there.”

She turned. “What’s wrong? Why are you on your knees?”

“I fell,” he whispered. “I’m sorry, you’re just - so beautiful.” He was gawky and gangly; he would probably be the tallest person in the room if he stood up, but only half the weight of any of the adult men. His haircut was as stupid as Mokuba said. She heard once his eyes were blue, so that was the name of that colour. Her eyes would look the same when she got a chance to look in a mirror.

“Well, get up,” she said. “I can’t read yet, so I need you to look at my contract for me.”

Mixed murmurs of relief and concern filled the room - relief that she clearly wasn’t feral, concern that she was only speaking to the boys.

“Now look here, dragon,” a grey-haired man snapped - that was Gozaburo’s voice. She spread her wings and roared at him. He paled and shut his mouth agreeably. Seto climbed to his feet, still looking dazed.

“Seto will read my contract. Johnson, produce it. Please,” she added as an afterthought. Johnson identified himself by stepping forward and handing Seto a sheaf of paper.

Seto collected himself admirably and skimmed the document. “Everything seems to be in order,” he said, “KaibaCorp fulfilled its obligations to incubate you safely, socialize you during incubation, et cetera... If you choose a captain within the company you are entitled to a-" he looked sharply at her, eyes blazing with sudden, terrified hope, “a 4% share of the company.”

“I choose Seto Kaiba as my captain,” she announced immediately. “Please give me a name and sign for us both.”

Pandemonium. Half a dozen men shouting at each other (Gozaburo being muscled out of the room by his own former cronies), Mokuba hugging his brother around the waist and yelling something unintelligible. She looked at Seto steadily. “Well?”

He reached out a wondering hand and brushed her snout, exactly the way he used to brush the shell of her egg from time to time. “I thought maybe, for a female: Kisara?”

“I like that.”

* * *

“As chairman, I have some conditions for my new president and vice president,” Kisara told them later, in private, over the enormous amount of Kobe beef that had been brought out for her hatching.

“Chairdragon,” Mokuba muttered, grinning.

“You will destroy the Big Five as planned. Their loyalty will never not be for sale.”

Seto nodded. “I was going to do that anyway. Anything else?”

“You both have to go back to human school, with other humans.”

“What!” cried Mokuba. “No way!”

“I’m less pleased with that,” Seto said.

“You need a real high school diploma, education in topics spurned by your stepfather, socialization with other humans your age - don’t make me list the ways you’re virtually feral yourself, dear-"

“I won't,” he said faintly.

“-and I would very much like us to join a school dueling team once I’m grown.”

“What!” Mokuba exclaimed. “How come Seto gets to duel with you and I don’t?”

“I believe the Domino High and Domino Junior teams practice on different days. There’s no reason I can’t do both.”

“Those are _public_ schools,” Seto blurted.

“Now, Seto, don’t be gross.”

Mokuba cackled, “Yeah, Seto, don’t be gross!”

“I suggested them because they have the most active dueling teams, but now I think you need to go there regardless.”

His jaw worked, but Kisara gave him what she hoped was a winning gape-smile and he folded. “I defer to the wishes of our esteemed chairdragon. Will there be anything else?”

“Two more things, but I think you’ll like them. First, you should build that arcade you talked about, the one with free programs for the underprivileged.”

“KaibaLand?” Mokuba shouted.

“Yes. And when you do, make at least part of the facility and some of the games accessible to dragons.”

“Of course. All good arcades do so. What was the second thing?”

She smiled again. “I want to keep living here. Let’s gut the mansion.”

Seto’s grin was slow, but as toothy as her own.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. gaijin: “foreigner”, pejorative, often implies white. Most of the YGO cast have anime coloring but Kaiba is also 6’1”, so it’s extra ridiculous that he uses “mutt” as an insult. 
> 
> 2\. Dr. Stephen Benton invented the ‘rainbow’ holograms we’re all familiar with in RL, and would probably be appalled at having his name attached in any way to the breathtaking hogwash I am peddling here :-P
> 
> 3\. I’m thinking 3-ish years passed? Seto is 2 years older than Yugi and his classmates, was adopted at 12, and had had his growth spurt by the time Kisara hatched, but his coup happened at least 2 years earlier than in the canon (where it apparently happened literally right at the start of the main storyline).


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> *frames Atem's face with my hands* why are you like this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ART! ART! Celepom has blessed this chapter with delightful art of [that time baby Atem kicked a 300-year-old heavyweight dragon monarch in the nose. ](http://celepom.tumblr.com/post/177955057162/ever-been-3-years-old-and-thought-it-was-a-good) I DIE OF THE CUTE!

_-Domino City, 2016-_

Cleaning up at the _onsen_ went well. Atem found it easier to relax around Yugi when he had something to do at the same time, even if that something was cleaning up the mess created by a middleweight dragon shedding her skin.

“What are you doing for the rest of the day?”

“Mahaad is finishing up some work at the university before the break, so I’m at loose ends.”

“Want to come back to Grandpa’s game shop with me?”

He knew the game shop was the bottom floor of Yugi’s family’s house. He was being invited to Yugi’s house. He focused on stuffing a particularly large skin flake into the compost bag and said, “Sure.” Thanks be to Thoth, his voice stayed steady.

The shuttle ride back to town was excruciating. Pressed side-by-side, surrounded by damp old people gossiping loudly, they stared straight ahead and bumped down the road in silence. Atem felt like Yugi’s bare knee could burn a hole through his pants leg. He cursed Mana for ditching him when she could have at least dispatched Slifer to give them a ride. Then he imagined the two of them riding pillion, Yugi’s thighs bracketing his hips and his chest snugged against Atem’s back, and he could not have responded even if Yugi had spoken.

They finally escaped the van in front of the little house. It was brightly-painted and narrow, with a simple pavilion among some pine trees out back. “That was… something,” said Yugi. “I think I’ll insist on returning by dragon from now on.”

“I have to agree.” Atem looked up at the storefront sign: Kame Game. “What sort of games does your grandfather sell?”

“What kind _don’t_ we sell!” Yugi ushered him inside, greeting Mr. Mutou cheerfully before beginning a whirlwind tour of the various sections.

He wasn’t kidding; they stocked a huge variety. Board games, trading cards, tabletop RPGs, even a few video and computer games. Atem thought he detected Yugi’s hand - that or Mr. Mutou did a great deal of research - in the carefully-curated selections, making the most of the limited floorspace to both move the most popular titles and offer up comparable underrated games. Every section had several catalogues and a stack of order forms, so customers could request additional items not part of the current inventory.

“Let’s go upstairs and get some lunch,” Yugi said. As they climbed the narrow staircase in the back of the store, he asked, “Do you like our caveman catalogues? We do all the ordering online, of course, but the paper trails help with invoicing.”

“Is an invoice like a bill?”

“Pretty much, yeah.” Yugi reached the top of the stairs, and blinked as he turned to face Atem. “I guess you don’t have to deal with that kind of thing very often, huh?”

“I got my first job at the age of eight, and will have it until I die without earning a cent,” Atem said drily, “so no, not often.” He looked around with interest as they stowed their shoes in a little _genkan_ and entered a sunlit kitchen. It was, he noted with relief, not much smaller than the one in his and Mahaad’s house, and looked similarly furnished; it didn’t make theirs look ostentatious.

“But you probably also don’t have to worry about money, either.” Yugi pulled ingredients from the fridge and started assembling a pair of sandwiches.

“Not unless tourists suddenly lose interest in Egypt and the Pharaoh.” Yugi chuckled. Atem smiled, but a thought occurred to him. “Even then it would take a while; Muhra’s herds are self-sustaining, and she owns the lands they graze on.”

“Muhra?”

“Mana’s mother. Her Majesty,” Atem corrected himself, rather belatedly. Yugi set the sandwiches on plates at the little table, and they sat down.

“What’s she like?” Yugi asked, in a hushed tone Atem knew all too well; this had to be the most common question anyone asked him. But because it was Yugi, Yugi who knew what it meant to care for a dragon from the egg, Yugi whose understanding he craved and feared in equal measure, he answered slowly and sincerely instead of by rote:

“She’s… for starters, she’s over three hundred years old. Think of how much the world has changed in three hundred years; she was around for all of it. Sometimes talking to her is like looking into a body of water so clear, you don’t realize how deep it is until you see the tiny shadow below something floating on the surface.”

Yugi nodded, swallowed his food, and said, “Ryou is about two hundred. He’s like that sometimes.”

His recognition was encouraging, like the gap in their experiences wasn’t so insurmountable after all. Bolstered, Atem went on, “And then at the same time, she still calls me ‘egg’, like a baby, because when I was three I hated the name so much I kicked her in the snout, and she laughed so hard she blew me over on my backside.”

Yugi squeaked with his hands clapped over his mouth. His eyes were shining. “That’s the cutest thing I ever heard,” he said.

“I don’t think I’ve ever told anyone that story before,” Atem realized. “Everyone I know back home tells it to each other.”

“Tell me another one?”

“Hmm… Mana loved playing hide-and-seek when she hatched, and quickly outgrew all her favorite hiding places, but Muhra pretended for weeks she still couldn’t see her.” He got out his phone and thumbed through his photo album to a picture of an enormous, vividly-painted clay vase, with a golden pair of hind legs and wings sticking out of it, and a tail flopping out onto the ground.

“Oh my God,” Yugi said with a kind of reverent delight.

“I am willing this photo to my successor, with instructions to display it at her coronation,” said Atem. “At the reception, of course, not the ceremony.”

Yugi giggled. Continued exposure was helping Atem get better at hearing Yugi laugh without needing to go lie down, but it still made his heart pound. He took a huge bite of sandwich as cover, and grunted with surprise at how tasty it was.

Yugi looked curiously at him, and Atem swallowed and said, “This is really good. What is it?” He hadn’t really been paying attention when Yugi put them together.

“Oh, just _miso katsu sando._ We had pork cutlets for supper last night, so there are leftovers. Mom makes the best ones, but she taught me how to make them pretty much the same way.”

“Well, it’s delicious.” Yugi looked pleased as they finished lunch. Before they cleaned up, he put together a third sandwich and stowed it in the fridge, saying, “I’ll take over for Grandpa in a minute while he comes up and eats. But first I want to grab something; come on.”

Another narrow staircase led them to a small, tidy bedroom with a skylight - it must be the one Atem could see on the roof while flying by. He’d never be able to look at it the same way again, not now that he knew it was the window to the room where Yugi slept. It had hinges and a two-way latch; Gandora must find it very comforting to be able to look in on and speak to Yugi. The Sennen pavilion house back in Egypt had a similarly-large window in every room for the same reason.

The walls were covered in gaming posters, and pages cut from dueling magazines. Before he could get a closer look, Yugi snatched something from his desk - the tablet Mana gave Gandora - and hurried them back out again. The oddest blush burned on his cheeks.

Down in the shop, Yugi set out the tablet and called up an app. “This was such a great gift; I don’t know if I ever thanked Mana for it myself, but I should. I borrow it from Gandora a lot, especially to do this.” He activated the holographic projector to display a 3D image of a half-dozen dragons, frozen in flight - a diagram of a dueling match. “I’ve been running some scenarios for the tournament, but I haven’t seen Slifer fly very much. Can you help me put in better variables for his model?”

Atem sat down beside him, looking for a settings icon on the ‘field’ below the dragons. “By all means. He can hover very well, and fly backwards but only slowly and not far. His top speed is…” Soon they were deep in discussion, making the pixelated dragons fly against each other in different approaches, the bright spots on their backs that stood for their captains firing little beams that connected - or not - with opposing models.

Customers came in several times. Yugi always popped up to help them very politely, and looked energized instead of fatigued after they left. Atem, well-trained introvert that he was, watched this display of true extroversion with concealed amazement.

Or, well, he tried to conceal it. Yugi looked at him oddly after the third time and said, “Look, if I have food in my teeth or something you should just tell me.”

“What? No, no, I was just - thinking.”

“About what?” Yugi took up his seat beside Atem again.

Atem reached desperately for the first plausible excuse he could think of. “Gandora! Have you been able to convince this software to model her array attack?”

Yugi grinned. “Sort of. Watch this.” He pulled up a saved simulation where a dragon with red polka-dots flew in a tight spiral formation with a black dragon, winding between the other dragons on the field.

“That’s the pattern you fly with Joey,” Atem realized, “the one that takes advantage of how similar Gandora and Tristan look at a glance.”

“That’s right! We call it the Wheeler. We don’t have enough targets in practice with just the school dueling team to do it properly - it’s best in large melees. Every time I take a shot, like so, I fire a beacon too. And then..." The Gandora model moved to an insanely risky position below the centre of the mob, her back - and Yugi - exposed to everyone. The Tristan model covered for her by getting up close and personal with the nearest dragons. Once Gandora got to the centre, beams shot out from all over her body, connecting to all the points on other dragons that had been tagged earlier. Yugi froze the simulation on that frame.

“If I did a good job of tagging, we clear out a huge amount of the competition at once.” He zoomed in on Gandora. “The simulation is a little too optimistic, though. I can’t figure out how to account for the way the real lenses won’t fire if the first thing in their path is our own targeting mesh.” He was right; a good quarter of the beams cut through parts of Gandora’s own body before proceeding to their targets.

“Mahaad dabbles in programming,” Atem offered, “I could have him take a look?”

Yugi beamed at him. “That would be awesome!”

They’d been hanging out all afternoon. Atem’s resistance was worn down. Yugi’s bright happiness transfixed Atem like a deer in headlights, and he was suddenly breathless with the desire to kiss him. All he had to do was lean in a few inches and he could-

“Yuu-gii! Atem? Are you in there?” Mana’s eye appeared in the doorway of the shop. Atem jerked away, face flaming.

“Hi Mana!” said Yugi, hopping to his feet and exiting the store to greet her properly. “Hi, Gandora! Did you have fun shopping?” They chatted about their day, while Atem stood there like a block of wood and tried to pull himself together. He couldn’t believe he’d almost done that! What was he thinking? He wasn’t, at least not with his brain. How could he even consider torpedoing the best friendship he’d made in his time here, all for a single instant of feeling Yugi’s lips against his own… they looked like they’d be soft…

He wrenched his mind out of the gutter with a violent effort. Then he noticed that Yugi, Mana, and Gandora were all staring at him. “Ah, sorry, could you please repeat that?”

“I said, are you ready to go? You wanted to cook something nice for Mahaad since his summer break starts tonight.”

“Right, _koshari_ with extra onions. We’ll need to stop for groceries on our way home.”

Yugi startled. “Oh crap, I almost forgot! Just a sec!” He dashed inside and disappeared up the stairs, coming back down a minute later with a slip of paper in his hand. “Téa gave me these: tickets to her dance recital tomorrow. Will you come with me?”

“Of course,” Atem said immediately, “I’d be happy to support Téa. Where, and what time?” Yugi told him, and Atem put a note into his phone since he didn’t exactly trust his mind after the way it was sleeping on the job this afternoon.

Yugi gave him another knee-weakening smile. “Great! See you tomorrow!”

Mana waited until she got him aloft to burst out with, “‘Supporting Téa’?”

Atem frowned. “Yes, of course. She’s a good friend, and works as hard at her sport as we do at ours, if not harder.”

Mana said, “Yes, that all goes without saying. But Atem, dearest, my Rafiq, my tiny mayfly monkey friend: Yugi invited you to go _with him._ Like a _date.”_

“What? No, you’re mistaken.”

“Ooh!” Mana snorted with such vigor there was a brief glow at her nostrils. “I love you, but you can be _terribly_ dense. Just promise me this: dress up a little tomorrow night, alright? Say it’s out of respect for Téa if you must.”

“That I can do.”

“Wear your crown?”

“No.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. genkan: like a foyer or mudroom, for taking off shoes (and sometimes putting on house slippers) before entering the main part of a house.
> 
> 2\. miso katsu sando: fried pork cutlet sandwich with miso. 
> 
> 3\. koshari: a popular Egyptian dish, featuring lentils, rice, macaroni, chickpeas, tomato sauce, and fried onions. According to the wiki, Mahaad's favorite food is onions, because he wasn't enough of a weirdo already.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Téa needs more female friends.

_-Domino City, 2014-_

Téa stopped, and Yugi turned to face her. Gandora bent her neck to look straight down at both of them.

“This is my stop. Thanks for walking with me.”

“We could have flown you.”

“With a little luck I’ll be flying soon enough. Better to start without being all stiff.”

“You won’t need luck,” Yugi said with a smile. He was so small and sweet, with such warm eyes; Téa wished she wanted him like he wanted her. But if the way he’d taken her rejection on the chin and kept right on being her friend couldn’t change her feelings, nothing would. “Are you sure you don’t want us to stay?”

“And make you miss dueling practice? No way! Especially not with that Kaiba jerk being a stickler for attendance now.”

“Oh, he’s not that bad.”

“He is that bad,” said Gandora, and nudged Yugi to climb aboard. “I agree that you won’t need it, but I still wish you the best of luck, Téa. Or is it break a leg?”

Téa laughed. “That’s for theater, you big dork.”

“Well then, how about one of Joey’s lines: knock ‘em dead!”

“Alright, thanks, now go!” Téa watched them lift off, shielding her eyes from the gust of Gandora’s wings. Then she took a deep breath, tightened her grip on her backpack, and walked into the arena.

About half the humans from her advanced class were already warming up on the soccer field, and twice as many people she didn’t know. There was a portable barre clamped to one of the goals. Téa set her bag down beside it and started her stretches.

“Word to the wise,” said an older boy she didn’t know, “they’re watching to see who uses the barre. They dock you points for it.”

Téa tightened her grip and deepened her stretch. “Says who?”

“Says everybody,” he insisted. There was an ugly edge to his smile that put Téa’s back up instantly. Her two best friends were the shortest boy in school and the poorest boy in school; she could smell a bully from a mile away, and this guy reeked of it.

Téa narrowed her eyes. “Madame Mori would have told us. I think you’re just trying to rattle people. Pretty slimy when not warming up properly could get someone injured.”

The boy flounced away, dreadlocked ponytail bouncing behind him. Téa tried to put him out of her mind and just work through her warm-up routine.

“Alright, gather round everyone!” called Madame Mori. She raised her loudspeaker vertically and repeated the same message to the dragons wheeling above, and they began to descend.

When there were two loose circles around her - humans, then dragons - she continued. “Welcome to pairing auditions for the Domino Aerial Ballet Corps. Half a dozen experienced dragon dancers are looking for human partners today; human candidates have been individually invited by their teachers.” She spared a thin smile for Téa and her other students.

“You should all be familiar with aerial safety protocols and have participated in some simple group performances on dragonback. However, to advance into aerial pas de deux work requires more than skill. For trust to develop between partners, they need a high degree of compatibility. To this end, we will be conducting a variety of trials for both humans and dragon candidates to observe each other. There is no formal scoring process-” Téa glared triumphantly at the boy who’d tried to undermine her, who scowled at the ground to avoid her gaze, “-although everyone is welcome to take notes.”

She ran through the schedule of exercises, not much different from the half-dozen other auditions Téa had attended (and failed). “We will conclude with-” Madame Mori hesitated, then said wearily, “-a Dance Dance Revolution battle on the back of Taisuke.” She bore the cheers of the assembled dragons with a long-suffering look. “Human candidates will now move onto the mat to begin.”

Téa had been through this process before, although never with so many dragons looking on at once. It was hard to stay focused on the exercises with her excitement threatening to bubble over; maybe this time she would find a partner! She tried to channel that energy into her body, use it to show how happy she was to be dancing. It felt good to be barefoot like an aerialist instead of bound in shoes like a floor dancer. She imagined herself aloft, using her toes to grip and turn and jump in time with the music.

At last they had a break to watch the dragons as they did ground and air exercises. Two Greylings, an Alaman, a Flecha-del-Fuego (probably the strongest presence in the group, with a dominant magnetism that reminded Téa of flamenco), what looked like an upsized Lung Yu cross, and -

 _“What_ is _that?”_ someone near Téa hissed. “Is that dragon wearing _feathers?”_

“No,” said someone else, “That’s Kujaku. She’s a cross with one of those Incan breeds, with feathers instead of scales.”

Which was true as far as it went, but was the most understated possible way of saying it. Kujaku looked like a six-ton, carnivorous peacock. The plumage on her tail and wings was so long that her moves looked out of step even though she was perfectly in time. The same bright trails of green and purple gave her every move an extra flourish, at once softer and wilder than the Flecha-del-Fuego’s crisp snaps. They also disguised the fact that in the air, she was the fastest of the six.

“God,” the first person said, “imagine trying to fit _that_ into your corps.”

“You don’t - they don’t. She’s a soloist. Her last partner went on to be a principal dancer with the Tokyo Ballet.”

Interested, ambitious noises all around, dancers suddenly seeing her not as a sore thumb but as a springboard. Téa fumed, but with effort kept her mouth shut. There was no way to get after the gossips without also drawing attention to the cruel things they were saying. It sounded like Kujaku had been around the block and knew it all already; making a scene would just mean she had to hear it again.

Finally Taisuke stepped forward. The wingless Han-Riu had four paired DDR mats strapped to his incredibly long back. There was even a projected screen where they would all do battle. “Since there are sixteen of you, we will do the first round in two heats,” he announced. “The eight winners from the first round will proceed to the second, during which I,” he said with great relish, “will also be dancing. Last human to fall off wins.”

There were scattered groans, but Téa was grinning. This was definitely the most interesting audition she’d ever attended! It also wasn’t a bad way for them to show off their stability on dragonback and how well they could recover from a fall.

“Aw, yeah!” said the dreadlocked boy from earlier. “Johnny Steps is about to take you all down! I rock this game even harder than ballet!”

Someone heckled, “Does the arcade keep its DDR machine on top of the mechanical bull, Johnny? Then you might wanna shut up before you end up looking like a fool.”

Johnny did shut up, and he didn’t end up looking like a fool - at least not in the first heat, which he won by a considerable margin. He was big, but he was so fast and flexible that that height translated into _reach_.

Téa beat her own opponent in the second heat, and she was so focused on figuring out the steps - it was a different track than any she had played at the arcade before - that she didn’t notice until it was over that she also had the high score.

“That means we go up against each other, sweetcheeks,” Johnny drawled, his look somehow getting more hostile as his manner became more flirtatious. “Hey, whaddya say we make a little wager? If I win, you have to go on a date with me.”

“In your dreams, Johnny.” Téa tried to sound bored, tried to keep from revealing the depth of her disgust and the tiny nugget of unease underneath. Just getting a rise out of someone was a win for creeps like this. Abruptly she wanted to deny him any win at all. Instead of climbing onto Taisuke’s back, she backed up, took her approach at a run, and vaulted onto the DDR pad.

“Oof!”

“Sorry, Taisuke.”

“It’s quite alright. I like your competitive enthusiasm.”

“Kick his ass, honey!” called someone in the crowd.

When everyone was aboard, the music started again and Taisuke started ‘dancing’. Proportionate to his overall size and the length of his legs, he was the longest dragon breed still capable of walking on land, so his dance consisted mainly of serpentine shimmies from side-to-side and up-and-down. It was mesmerizing to watch from afar, but being on his back while it happened, the mechanical bull comparison was apt. Two dancers fell off almost instantly.

It rapidly became clear that the high scores on the DDR board from the first round would not be repeated. Just staying aboard and hitting more than half the marks was difficult. Still, Téa found herself rising to the occasion, rocking with the mat beneath her feet like it was a boat on a stormy sea. She was just starting to get the hang of it when Johnny started aiming his flailing arms and legs at her.

“Watch it!” she snapped after taking an elbow to the shoulder.

Scattered boos from the crowd. “Keep it clean, Johnny!”

She ducked another elbowing, leaned backwards out of the way of a kick, and as she was lifting back up to a neutral position, out of the corner of her eye she saw a huge vertical wave coming from Taisuke’s forelegs. She grinned and bent her legs, and jumped when the wave hit, letting it launch her clear into the air as she turned a backflip. She stuck the landing, lost her footing on the following hard sway to the right, and took a rolling fall onto the grass before sprawling out laughing. Johnny, thrown clear by the first wave, lay crumpled nearby in a groaning heap.

There wasn’t much left to do after that: cheer on the two dancers still aboard Taisuke until the song ended, spread high-fives and well-wishes all around, try not to look wistfully at the dancers being pulled aside by various dragons. Téa put her jacket, socks, and shoes back on and headed out.

Just as she emerged back onto the street her upper arm was grabbed and she was spun around.

“You owe me a rematch, bitch,” snapped Johnny. “I’m the best at that stupid game; I only lost because of _you!”_

“One, that’s crap; you were the one who cheated. Two, get over it; it was just a fun thing to lighten up the audition, and now it’s over.”

“It _is_ over! My whole future was in there, and you took it away from me!”

“Holy melodrama, Batman. It’s just an audition. I’ve failed like six - seven now, I guess.”

“I’m not you,” Johnny grated, eyes bulging enough Téa was starting to feel genuinely nervous, “I’m so far out of your league you should be  _begging_ to be around me, you little-" he faltered and dropped her arm as a shadow fell over his face, from a huge shape looming up behind Téa. Téa glanced behind her; it was Kujaku, the feathered lightweight from the audition.

 _“Every_ woman is out of _every_ man’s league, actually,” said Kujaku. “Is this twerp bothering you, honey?” Téa realized with a start that her voice was the one that had advised her earlier to kick Johnny’s ass.

“Kinda, yeah,” she admitted. If it were a boy her own age she would’ve felt able to handle it on her own (she was still taller than half of them), but the way Johnny was so much bigger than her and not holding back from pushing her around was scary.

“You heard the lady: get over yourself and scram.” Kujaku leaned over Téa’s head and snapped her jaws a hairsbreadth from his face, and Johnny scrambled to get away from her. To his retreating back Kujaku called, “And don’t even think about auditioning for the Domino corps again, or you’ll find yourself thrown in the bay!”

She turned to Téa. “I’m sorry that ingrate managed to get you alone. We should have figured he would try something like that. Are you alright?”

“I’m okay. Thank you.” Kujaku was even prettier up close; her feathers had an iridescent sheen, and looked so soft and smooth Téa itched to pet them. “You can go back to interviewing your finalists now.”

“I am interviewing my finalist. I wanted to talk to you straightaway but I lost track of you in the crowd. I wish distinctive hats were still a thing for humans; it would help a lot.”

Téa laughed. “What, like at that English horse race? I guess stranger fashions have happened.” She jolted. “Wait, did you just call me your finalist?”

“Mm-hmm.”

“But I failed the audition.”

“You said yourself the dance-off at the end was just for fun. And you showed agility, adaptability, and spirit. I liked what I saw, kiddo. What’s your name?”

“Téa. Téa Gardner.”

“I’m Kujaku. Care to go for a little test flight?”

“Would I _care_ to,” Téa echoed incredulously, “this has only been my dream since primary school!”

Kujaku looked nervous suddenly. “Which, you _are_ out of, right? I’m not always the best at guessing human ages.”

“Yes, I’m fourteen.”

“Oh, that’s _so_ much better than twelve.”

“Hey, you liked my dancing just fine when you didn’t know how old I was!”

“There is that. Okay, hop on and let’s flock and talk.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. The [Royal Ascot](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ascot_Racecourse) is a horse race that doubles as a ridiculous hat festival.
> 
> 2\. Kujaku's opening line is from a Twitter quote meme on Tumblr that I neglected to tag :-/ Pitfalls of letting [one's blog](https://toffeecape.tumblr.com/) remain a dumpster fire.


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> All dances must come to an end, even dancing around each other.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Smut ahead!

_-Domino City, 2016-_

“Would you stop jittering?” said Gandora.

“I’m trying,” Yugi said, “but that’s up to the butterflies in my stomach, not me.”

“I suppose it’s understandable, first date and all.”

“It’s not a date!”

“It’s not _not_ a date.”

“I have plausible deniability of it being a date if he doesn't doesn't want it to be a date. It’s both a date and not a date.”

“Schrödinger’s date,” Gandora chortled.

“Shut up, here they come.” Yugi anxiously fiddled with the buckles and buttons on his black shirt, looking up at the unmistakable golden shape of Mana wheeling overhead. “Do you think the shirt was too much?”

“I thought you wanted me to shut up,” Gandora snipped, then relented with, “it’s fine. You look just like Edward Scissorhands.”

“He had a Look, but he didn’t have _game,”_ Yugi fretted.

“Too late to back out now!”

Mana landed neatly instead of showily, in deference to the crowds ringing the dance grounds. “Good evening!” she said. “What’s too late to back out of?”

“My and your positions for viewing,” Gandora covered hastily. “Yugi and Atem have human seats further in, but as you can see it’s already a dreadful crush up here.”

Mana stretched her wings until they nearly butted up against their neighbors, all but eclipsing Gandora from above. “We’ll have room. And there are screens, of course, so we can see the performance from anywhere.” She crouched down and said, pointedly, “You boys go have fun!” Atem slid to the ground, as did Yugi, and then they stood there blinking at each other.

“You look - uh, good,” Yugi said lamely. That was putting it mildly. The single gold choker Atem habitually wore now had two more stacked above it, and below it a huge collar necklace of bright beads and gold trim that extended to his shoulders. Below that, his simple white shirt was sleeveless, displaying gold cuffs between his biceps and deltoids as well as at his wrists. He was definitely wearing thicker eyeliner than usual. All that bling should have overwhelmed him, but he carried it so naturally, with his straight back and sharp eyes, that he just looked - illuminated. Regal. Yugi had the strangest urge to, like, lay a sword at his feet or something. That or seduce him, make all that composure shatter so Yugi could play with the blushing nerd underneath.

“Thanks,” said Atem, “you too.” Yugi was suddenly glad he’d gone hard on the goth finery, eyeliner and all; they might both look a bit like extremely lost guests from a Halloween party, but at least they _both_ looked that way, together.

He shook himself. “We should go take our seats before the event starts. This way.” He lead Atem down into the rows of human seating that ringed the bowl-shaped field, finding the seat numbers printed on the tickets.

“Is anyone else here for Téa tonight?”

“Her parents are down in the front row, and Joey too. He has the best throwing arm so he’s on flower-tossing duty. See him?”

Atem chuckled. “He’s holding so many bouquets I wonder about his ability to see the performance.” It was true. Joey was barely visible under a mountain of flowers.

“Ryou is probably here somewhere, too - he’s really into ballet, theater, anything with live performance. Bakura complains a lot about being dragged along but then fights anyone who tries to tease him or Ryou for it.” Atem shook his head, grinning.

Soon the ground lights dimmed and the overhead lights came on. The crowd hushed as the music began: a commanding drum chorus as four dragons flew in from the north, south, east, and west, trailing four incredibly long colored banners. As they converged, the humans holding the banners separated their arms, revealing each banner to actually be two strips, each at the end of a weighted baton. They began tossing the batons to each other as their dragons wheeled, dipped, and climbed, weaving a complex pattern in the sky.

“They’re actually making a thing up there,” Yugi whispered. “It’s called the Midsummer Banner; they'll get it blessed at the shrine and fly it at the festival next week.”

“It’s amazing,” Atem replied softly.

“Do you have anything like this at home?”

“Sort of. The most popular night venue is Giza, at a midpoint between the pyramids. Colored spotlights shine on their white sides and light up the whole area. But more often dances are held at temples in daylight, with both dragons and humans painted.”

The dragons flew apart, pulling the design taut, and the dancers released their batons. The completed Banner, pulled into a parachute shape by the batons, floated to earth to polite applause. Yugi had thought the opening music was intense, but then the orchestra somehow kicked it up a notch, as the lights panned out to reveal the entire ballet company, dozens of mounted dragons flying in a huge, whirling ring around the perimeter of the space.

“Oh!”

Yugi grinned. “That’s the other reason to open like that: to distract from everyone else assembling.” They looked like a host of air spirits, wild and dangerous, as if the audience below had better hope they remained unnoticed.

“Very effective.” Atem sounded wonderfully breathless; it made Yugi want to lick his neck.

Several people nearby glared and shushed them, and Yugi took the excuse to lean in closer and whisper right in Atem’s ear, “There’s Kujaku, see?” Atem twitched, but it could just have tickled, _but_ he didn’t lean away from Yugi.  

Piece by piece, the ring broke formation to tell a wordless story, one to six pairs at a time. Kujaku and Téa clearly weren’t the main characters, but they seemed to have an important role, accosted by various other characters, travelling back and forth between factions. Téa was as exuberant in her leaps and twirls as Kujaku was flamboyant with her plumage. Whenever she got a closeup on the screens her face was alight; she looked like she was laughing out loud half the time.

“She’s beautiful,” Atem murmured.

“Yeah,” Yugi replied absently, still looking up. “It’s no surprise I took so long to realize I’m bi; for years she was all I could see.”

“‘Was’?”

Oh shit, did Yugi say that out loud? Fuck. Well, he wanted Atem to know him, right? “Yeah,” he sighed. “I told her I liked her a couple of years ago.”

“And?”

Yugi shrugged. “And she didn’t feel the same way. I was disappointed, but I got over it. I’m really glad we’re still friends.”

“That’s it?”

“Well, that’s it _now._ There was some epic fourteen-year-old moping behind closed doors. I listened to some lousy music and started wearing cooler clothes. I ditched the music, kept the clothes, and here I am.”

“Here you are,” Atem echoed. Yugi glanced over at him and surprised a look of such open affection on his face that Yugi’s breath caught.

 _Do it,_ he shouted in his mind, _do something. I just finished explaining to you why I won’t make the first move._ He’d been lucky to keep Téa’s friendship; he might not be so lucky a second time.

But the moment only lasted a fraction of a second before Atem’s eyes widened and he looked hurriedly back up at Téa’s performance. Yugi was left wondering if he’d imagined it, seen what he wanted to see.

Téa and Kujaku’s current solo ended and the story flowed on. It was pitch dark by the time it concluded, the ballet corps landing in the centre of the field to take their bows. Yugi and Atem cheered so wildly when Téa stepped forward that she actually looked in their direction like she could hear them in the crowd, before one of Joey’s bouquets hit her in the ear.

“Should we try to meet up with her?”

“It’s opening night; I think she and Kujaku will be partying with the corps until late.” Hopefully it was already late enough for Tristan to plausibly not want to venture into Joey’s neighborhood to drop him off, instead holing up at Tristan’s place.

They worked their way back up to the dragon seating. It was slow going with the crowds trickling up the ramps. They were squashed together more than once to let people in wheelchairs, or with small children, squeeze past.

On one such pass, Atem said, “Yugi.”

Fuck, Yugi could get used to the sound of Atem’s voice saying his name. “Yeah?”

“If Téa came to you tomorrow and said she’d changed her mind, would you still....?”

“She wouldn’t do that. She’s my friend _because_ she wouldn’t do that.”

“But if she did.”

“...No. Not right now, anyway.” _Not while I want_ you _this much._

They made it back to Mana and Gandora, both of whom looked at them searchingly and then seemed to deflate.

“Did you enjoy the performance, Atem?” said Gandora.

“Very much, yes. Thank you for the invitation, Yugi.”

‘“Thank Téa for giving me the tickets.”

“I will,” Atem said with a firm nod, clearly making a note to himself.

Yugi thought about asking him to hang out longer, then chickened out with, “So, I’ll, uh… see you at practice tomorrow?”

“In the morning, right? Mahaad and Slifer want to join us.”

“That’s right. With just a week before the tournament, visiting players start showing up too. It can get exciting.”

“We’ll be there.” Atem smiled wryly. “And thanks for the tip. I’ll pack my glasses in case I need to learn any new faces.”

“Heh. Okay, see you then.” Yugi waved at him, and it felt horribly wrong-footed not to be kissing him goodnight.

He glanced back once as they were flying away from each other. It kind of looked like Atem was beating his head against Mana’s withers, but that didn’t make any sense. He must have just been leaning closer to be heard over the wind.

* * *

Yugi’s prediction was correct: the dueling range had easily twice as many people as usual on it the next morning. He knew most of the new faces, but the Egyptians didn’t, so he made a round of introductions.

“And this is Mako and Umi,” he finished. “They only moonlight as duelists; their real thing is sport fishing. Didn’t you take the Marlin Cup last last year?”

“Ha ha ha, we did!” boomed Mako. “The spirit of my father guided my rod and strengthened my line!”

“Ugh, you are _so_ weird, Mako,” Umi groaned, folding her wings over her eyes. “It was a good day. We caught some nice marlin. Won a trophy and some money.”

Gandora pricked up her ears. “Ooh, a trophy? Describe it!” She pestered Umi for details the whole time Yugi was fitting her lenses. Nearby dragons listened in shamelessly.

“All set! So, what kind of practice are we looking at today?”

Kaiba scowled at the range. “With this many bodies, a scrimmage is the only format that makes sense.”

Joey put in, “I’d say Domino versus visitors, but the teams would be lopsided.”

Kisara smiled. “Leave that to me.” She raised her voice. “Would everyone please activate your targeting meshes for a live update!”

When the assembled pairs were all lit up, Kaiba did something on his phone, and the lattices changed from their standard off-white color to either blue or red. Yugi saw that about half the players had become each color.  Slifer, Kisara, and Tristan were among the red team; Gandora, Mana, and Umi ended up on blue. The other out-of-towners looked evenly distributed on both.

“The long-requested Team Colors option, complete with random sorting if so desired,” Kisara said proudly. “Coding it took some doing, let me tell you.”

“Alright!” said Joey. “We got the range for two hours, so let’s get started!”

Scrimmaging was fun with lots of people. They weren’t formally tracking the lifepoint scores (Kaiba probably was, since his software always knew who landed hits on who, but he wasn’t broadcasting the data today), just letting the lattices deactivate patch-by-patch as the mesh was struck by infrared beams. When a dragon went fully dark or a human got struck, their rifle deactivated and they had to land or watch from the periphery.

The first three matches lasted less than twenty minutes each - too fast and furious for Yugi to really place many beacons for Gandora’s lenses before they were eliminated. But in the final match the teams started to gel and get more strategic, smaller dragons hiding behind bigger ones, fast dragons trying to outmaneuver their opponents. Yugi fired off a beacon with almost every beam, and realized at about the half-hour mark that he had enough placed for it to be worth the risk of triggering them. If he succeeded, he was pretty sure he’d take Slifer out of play at least - he was so long that he was able to act as a barrier for two dragons at once, even if one was another heavyweight. Yugi had managed to plant at least a dozen beacons on him. If Slifer was taken off the field the red team’s current strategy would fall apart.

“Alright, Gandora, let’s go for it!”

Mako overheard him and crowed, “Ah, a destruction run! It’s rare to have that used on our opponents instead of against us!”

“We’ll cover you; let’s go!” said Umi. Gandora banked into a quick U-turn and started a shallow dive, with Umi following to shield them from above. Atem (or Mana) clearly picked up on what they were doing as well and started to climb, so as to be above the main bulk of targets and thus less vulnerable to friendly fire. Mana’s gold color made her hypervisible at all times; the other blue players noticed her and followed suit.

Kaiba also noticed, and shouted, “Destruction run! Stack vertically!”

“Hey, Yugi.” Gandora had a smile in her voice. “Ski jump?”

“If you’re up for it!”

“I’m up for it.” She dipped sharply, tucking her wings and letting gravity increase her speed, then flared her wings out to convert that momentum into a near-vertical climb. She rotated as they approached the column of opposing players - now starting to scatter as they realized what she was up to, but far too late. When her back - and thus most of her nodes - roughly faced them, Yugi shouted, “Now!” and she triggered her lenses. Most of them flickered. A huge portion of the red team’s holo-mesh went dark, including enough of Slifer’s that Mahaad stowed his dead rifle in surrender and retreated.

“We _taught_ you that move!” Tristan yelled on their left, and Joey took out Yugi with a single shot.

“Worth it!” Yugi retorted, signalling the beacons to return to their docking station as Gandora moved off to the periphery of the range. And it was: between Umi below and Mana and the others above, picking off the remaining red lifepoints was a minor mopping-up task.

“That is an even more devastating capability to observe in person,” Mahaad said as they watched from the sidelines.

“Thanks,” Gandora replied. “It’s just a loophole, really, since it’s not a breath attack.”

“It is no loophole,” Mahaad insisted, “it requires an extraordinary display of dragon and human cooperation, and thus embodies the truest spirit of dueling.”

Yugi laughed. “That’s pretty much what Kaiba said before awarding himself and Kisara the right to keep tinkering with our array.” At Mahaad’s questioning look, he explained, “KaibaCorp is the official sponsor of dueling in Japan, so the rules here are whatever Kaiba and Kisara want them to be.”

“And as goes Japan, so goes the world,” said Slifer knowingly.

“Not the Olympics,” Gandora pointed out. “We’d be rifle-only there, if we got that far.”

“I have no doubt you will if you so choose,” Mahaad said.

“Mahaad,” Slifer interrupted in a different tone, “we have company on the ground.”

Mahaad looked down and narrowed his eyes. “Press.”

Yugi blinked. “You don’t like the press?”

“It depends. Journalists are vital; reporters are fine. Paparazzi are… scum.”

Yugi recalled stories he’d read, about royals being badly harassed for tabloid material. “They’re not here for Mana. They’re here as part of the ramp-up to the summer tournament; they show up every year. I think Mokuba - Kaiba’s younger brother - invites them, actually.”

“Hmm. Still, I should give them a heads-up.” Slifer rose up to meet Mana on her way down from the remains of the skirmish. Yugi headed down to the supply shed to stow Gandora’s lenses.

“Remember the time that reporter took a picture of me wearing these and tried to start a rumor that they’re part of my body and shoot laser beams?”

“Why do you think I’m so anal about taking them off right away now?”

“What? That was hilarious!”

“Agree to disagree.” Gandora already hated it when little kids were scared of her; Yugi wasn’t about to help that happen more often.

When he emerged from the supply shed, the others were ringed in a loose circle around the cluster of reporters. Joey was speaking into a microphone; judging by the nonplussed faces of those nearby and the weird way he was thrusting out his chin, he was on one of his bizarre boasting kicks:

“We’ve done it before an’ we’ll do it again: Domino High is gonna take all comers to _school!”_

“Erm, yes, thank you Mr. Wheeler,” said a woman Yugi recognized from the local news. She turned to Mana. “And now for a word from Domino’s most illustrious exchange students: Princess Mana and Atem Sennen. Together with Slifer and Mahaad Sahir, you’ve done a great deal to advance the sport of dueling in your home country of Egypt. Tell me, has training in the dueling hub of Domino taught you anything new about the game?”

“Certainly, Ms. Uchino,” Atem began smoothly enough. “Having the opportunity to train with a larger team has taught me how dueling is not only about the bond between human and dragon, but also about trust and communication between-" he caught sight of Yugi and twitched, going visibly red. He forced his face back to Uchino, but his eyes were wide and blank. “Between, uh - what was the question again?”

Yugi clenched his fists. Whatever Atem’s problem was, this was starting to get old fast. Gandora just pulled off a brilliant move; would it kill Atem to throw her a bone? Just get over himself long enough to do that much?

Mana insinuated herself into the sightline between Atem and Uchino. “We’ll let Mahaad and Slifer field this one, if you don’t mind. Please excuse us.”

Mahaad gaped like a fish and flicked his index finger at Mana, mouthing, “One day! One!” but she paid him no mind, striding toward Yugi with Atem still mounted.

“Supply shed,” she said, as quietly (not very) and ominously _(very)_ as a dragon could manage, “now.” Gandora turned and trotted beside her back the way she and Yugi just came.

“Atem, you and Yugi are going in that shed, and you are not _coming_ out until you’ve _had_ it out. Do you understand me?”

“What are you-" Mana cut Atem off.

“We have been patient - more than patient, but this ends today. _Talk. To. Him.”_ She softened her tone minutely. “It will be okay, _qarad saghir._ Trust me.”

“I agree,” said Gandora. “Get in there, Yugi.” Slowly, his confusion running very high but not as high as his temper, Yugi dismounted and walked into the shed. As soon as Atem did the same the door swung shut, and there was the distinct _thud!_ of multi-ton bodies making themselves comfortable on the ground outside.

Yugi flicked on the overhead lightbulb, and Atem blinked at Yugi and started to say, “I don’t know what she’s talking ab-" but Yugi was having none of it, and shoved Atem in the chest, hard enough to push him back a step.

 _“What_ is your problem with me?”

“What? I don’t have-”

“Bull _shit._ You can’t talk to me without turning into a pod person half the time. You can barely stand to _look_ at me. I’ve tried really hard to make friends with you, Atem, or at least get along as teammates, and I thought we were doing better but I guess I was wro- _mmph!”_ Yugi was cut off by Atem grabbing his shirt in his fists and crushing their mouths together.

As first kisses went, it didn’t have much to recommend it. Yugi was frozen, mind blank, and Atem pushed against him so hard their teeth clicked. They stayed like that for a beat too long, until Atem stiffened too, and pulled away. His eyes were huge, like he’d shocked himself.

“I - I’m sorry,” he said, “I shouldn’t have - I’ll go-”

“Don’t you _dare.”_ Yugi reached out in turn and put his hands on Atem’s shoulders, pressing down as if to fix him to the spot. He didn’t run, so maybe it worked. Now if only Yugi’s _brain_ would work.

“You… you like me?”

Atem swallowed. “I can’t talk to you because I can’t _think_ around you,” he said. “I can’t look at you because it’s like looking at the sun.”

“...You have a _crush_ on me.”

“I _had_ a crush on you, before I knew you.”

Yugi winced. “Thanks.” But Atem wasn’t done.

“Now that I know you, it’s… more than a crush.” He brushed a hank of Yugi’s bangs away from his forehead, letting the strands slip through his fingers. “Much more.”

Yugi licked his lips. “Oh,” he said, “that’s good, because, uh, me too.” And he pulled Atem close again and pressed their mouths together, softly.

If Atem had snapped before, he crumbled now. He sagged against Yugi, making a pained noise low in his chest. His raised hand slid further into Yugi’s hair, then down to the back of his neck; Yugi could feel the faint tremor in it. He wanted to steady Atem, show him he reciprocated with his body since he had no hope of matching his eloquent words. He backed Atem up against the wall and wrapped his arms around Atem’s waist, pulling him in close, breathing him in deep.

He smelled _so good:_ like sun-warmed cotton and clean sweat, and a hint of the same dry, not-quite-fishy dragon smell that always clung to Yugi. The muscles of Atem’s lower back were warm and firm under Yugi’s hands, shifting and flexing. He found himself pressing closer and closer, until they were touching almost head-to-toe. His head swam with how good it was, and suddenly one last curl of irritation lashed him and he pulled away for a moment.

“Wha- hey!” Atem flinched as Yugi flicked his ear.

 _“All that_ was over _this?_ You’re ridiculous.”

“I am,” Atem breathed, “I am such a fool.” He looked at Yugi starry-eyed, still petting his head and neck like he couldn’t believe this was happening, and Yugi relented. He never was any good at carrying a grudge.

“No worse than me. I could have said something too.”

“It’s said now.” Atem’s eyes slid down to Yugi’s mouth and he leaned in for another kiss. He was a _very_ quick study, or at least so Yugi thought; they were rocketing to the borders of Yugi’s firsthand experience. He pressed his mouth to Yugi’s, licked at his lips, and Yugi caught on and parted them. At the first touch of Atem’s tongue to his own his knees almost buckled. His breath gusted in his nose.

He pulled away just enough to tell Atem, “Wow. You taste amazing.”

“You too.”

Yugi moved in again, flicking his tongue against Atem’s, and then venturing into his mouth. Atem hummed in surprise and opened his mouth wider, inviting Yugi deeper, and Yugi accepted the offer and slid his tongue right inside, stroking up against Atem’s tongue. Atem groaned, less pained and more delighted, a rumble of pleasure in that surprisingly deep voice of his that made Yugi’s toes curl. He sucked a little on Yugi’s tongue and Yugi’s hips bucked, and the pressure against his dick made him lean in harder, grinding his cock against - yep, Atem was hard too, pushing back and gripping Yugi’s upper arms with equal excitement.

Yugi pulled his mouth back again to confess, “From here I really don’t know what I’m doing.”

“Heh. I passed that point at the outset.”

“Wait, really?”

“Yes, really.” Atem looked down, color high in his cheeks as he found Yugi’s hand with his own and tangled their fingers together. “What, you couldn’t tell by how smoothly I’ve conducted myself?”

Yugi snorted, but was not deterred from his new line of questioning. “You’ve never even kissed before?” Atem shook his head minutely, still not looking up. “But you’re - you!”

“Just exactly so." Now he made eye contact again. “Where I come from, I’m - Her Highness’s Rafiq, Kema Sennen’s son, Her Majesty’s godson. What would it even _mean,_ for someone to want - just me?” Yugi squeezed his hand, and he went on, “It seemed impossible, so I just - never let it happen. Never let anyone close enough.”

“You let _me_ close.” Yugi put a little pressure back into where their groins were still snugged together - both still hard, but not so frantically aroused as a moment ago. He dropped his free hand from Atem’s waist down to the top of his butt and gave him a cautious grope. Fuck, it felt as round and perfect as he’d imagined.

“I did,” Atem sighed, a stunned smile wobbling on his face. “Hi.”

It was nonsensical, but Yugi got it: a feeling of having stumbled past each other's boundaries, meeting anew. He thought his own smile must look almost as fragile. “Hi yourself.” Their next kiss felt inevitable as gravity, falling against each other.

Yugi’s hands roamed hungrily, learning the shape of Atem through his clothes just as he learned the taste and feel of Atem’s mouth with his own. There was a heat building in him, both like and unlike the arousal he felt when he jacked off: like, in the familiar delicious tension in his abdomen and the aching wish to touch and be touched, but unlike in the unprecedented chance for him to _get_ his wish - and with the person he wanted most. Atem was _here,_ warm and moving in the circle of his arms, clutching at Yugi with increasing clumsiness as his breath sped up and grew shaky.

It was ridiculous. They were ridiculous. They were both still _fully-clothed,_ just rocking against each other as they made out with less and less coordination, but Yugi’s heart was pounding in his ears and he was breaking into a fine sweat all over. 

“Atem,” he panted, “can I touch you?”

“You are touching me,” Atem rasped.

“I mean under your clothes - can I touch you here?” Yugi gripped Atem’s erection through his pants and felt it twitch.

“Yes.” He didn’t have to tell Yugi to hurry, popping the button on Atem’s pants and shoving his hand inside, and _oh._ Heat, and damp air, soft soft skin over living hardness. Yugi closed his fingers gingerly around Atem’s cock and felt something slam through him, a body blow of want. He wanted to shelter Atem, and he wanted to eat him alive.

“Like that?”

“Yes,” Atem groaned, hips rolling into Yugi’s touch. “Gods, I can’t believe how good you feel - even better than I imagined -”

“Oh, you _imagined,_ huh?” Who was that, murmuring in such a husky, teasing voice? Was that _him?_ He tried adding a little twist on the upstroke and Atem’s breath whined in his nose as he nodded, looking mortified.

“That’s so hot, Atem. I imagined us too.”

“Tell me?”

“I wanna get you naked, look my fill on purpose instead of creeping on you by accident.”

“Not creeping,” Atem insisted raggedly, “love finding your eyes on me. Pretty eyes…”

“Wanna touch you all over, taste you all over.” Yugi was feeling kind of ragged himself.

“Yes.” Atem was starting to vibrate the way Yugi did sometimes when he was _really_ turned on. He bet if he had more room he could feel Atem’s balls drawing up.

“And I will do that, but right now I just wanna see your face when you come, Atem. Can you do that? Will you come for me? With my hands on you?” And Atem said, “Yes,” and, “Yes,” and, _“Yes, Yugi, ahhh!”_ and Yugi caught his final sweet shuddering sigh in his mouth as Atem painted Yugi’s hand with warm stickywet come.

Carefully he pulled his hand out of Atem’s pants, and not-so-carefully he opened his own and reached inside, smearing Atem’s come over his own hardon. Atem watched him, his eyes heavy-lidded and his chest heaving, only held up by the wall behind him and Yugi in front of him.

“What can I do?”

“Anything, just hold onto me, look at me, I’m so close, you’re so sexy,” he babbled.

Atem held onto his waist and the back of his neck, pulling him in so their foreheads rested together. His voice curled around Yugi like smoke as he said, “Next time I want to do more.”

That was it. “Hnnngh!” Yugi went into freefall, shaking apart in Atem’s arms, caught and cradled in the immense warmth of his eyes. When Yugi brought his hand up and began licking it clean of their combined fluids, Atem only blinked and somehow flushed even redder before leaning in and tasting it with him.

Yugi burst into giggles when Atem’s nose wrinkled. “I like the idea of that better than the reality.”

“I only like it _right_ after I nut.” He slipped his hand under the hem of Atem’s shirt and rubbed the remaining traces into his belly. “There, we’re boyfriends now. No takebacks.” Atem rumbled at him, eyes gone dark all over again, and snatched another kiss.

When they were buttoned and tucked enough to be vaguely presentable (one perk of the permanent bedhead they were both cursed with was a little extra mussing was unnoticeable) Yugi went to push open the door, only to have it stop almost immediately against a scaly hide.

“You can let us out now!” he called. “We talked!”

“...Prove it,” said Gandora.

Yugi took Atem’s hand in his, interlacing their fingers. “Open the door and let us prove it!”

She shifted away, and the door swung open fully. They walked out still holding hands, and Gandora squealed. “Oh! You did talk!”

“You actually did it,” Mana said wonderingly. She tilted her head and sniffed the air. “You did _more_ than talk,” she gloated. “Ra, we should have shut you in somewhere together _weeks_ ago.”

“Months,” Gandora bemoaned.

Yugi’s face was flaming. He looked around; the range was mercifully deserted. They must have been there long enough for everyone else to disperse. He dug out his phone to check the time. “Oh man. Two dozen texts from Joey, and another dozen from Téa.”

Atem sighed wearily. “Mahaad will wait until he sees me in person to interrogate me.”

“He will _congratulate_ and _thank_ you, Atem,” said Mana. “Things were getting out of hand.”

“Please stop talking,” Atem said with both hands over his face.

Mana glanced at Yugi. “Oh. Yes. I won’t embarrass you in front of your mate.”

“Boyfriend! Gods!” Atem lowered his hands enough to crinkle his eyes at Yugi. “Boyfriend,” he said sappily. Yugi beamed at him.

Gandora sighed. “It’s even cuter than I’d imagined.”

“That’s true, but all teasing aside I’m very proud of you both. I know this is a sensitive matter for humans and it took considerable bravery to finally discuss it.” Mana did the full-body shrug that was the draconic equivalent of squaring one’s shoulders. “In fact, your example has given me the courage to try something I’ve been avoiding.”

“Mana,” Atem said softly, “you don’t have to.”

“I think I do, actually. Do any of you know Ryou's phone number? I'll need his help for what I have in mind." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. The pyramids were covered in polished white limestone in Days of Yore. Since in this universe ancient Egyptian culture is, uh, modern Egyptian culture, I figure they’ve been kept in good repair.
> 
> 2\. Hi my name is Toffee and I wrote a huge fic revolving around an action game when I cannot write action sequences AT. ALL. 
> 
> 3\. Qarad saghir: “little monkey".
> 
> 4\. *sigh* Thirteen chapters of meticulously-crafted slow-burn teenage pining, and STILL, first chance they get it’s like: Yugi. Yugi why are you dirty talking. You were supposed to kiss cutely, maybe grind a little and then walk out holding hands and blushing. Yugi why are your HANDS in Atem’s PANTS Atem why are you going along with this you gentle sheltered princeling you should be FAINTING right now you HORNDOGS *beats them both with a broom* MEN.


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ryou doesn't ask Bakura why he is like this. He knows why.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: allusions to canon-level Thief King Bakura backstory, so, genocide basically.

_-Domino City, 2011-_

_This is how I die,_ thought Bakura, but all he said was, “Urk.” That was about all he could manage while dangling in the air, held up by a taloned foot hooked through his shirt.

“I don’t know what rock you crawled out from under,” said a voice, surprisingly mild, but with an underlying inhuman resonance that reverberated in Bakura’s bones, “but in most parts of the world it’s deemed prudent to heed any sign that starts with _‘Property of Dragon’,_ regardless of the name that follows. As a rule, we don’t take possession of anything we don’t intend to defend.”

“Gurp.”

“Now then, thief, let’s get a look at you.” Still suspended in the air, Bakura was turned until he came face-to-face with - well, the face was all he could see at first, because it was bigger than his whole body. The dragon was a muddy grey-brown at the top of his head, and pale white at his throat. It reminded Bakura of a fish.

As he brought Bakura fully into view, the dragon’s eyes widened with surprise and he hurriedly set Bakura down on his feet. “Why, you’re just an egg!”

Bakura clenched his fists. “Am not! I’m eleven!”

“Oh, I stand corrected,” the dragon drawled, then snapped, _“where_ are your _parents?”_

Bakura scowled and looked away. “Gone.”

The dragon faltered. “Oh. Well, who is responsible for you, then? Foster parents? Or - they call them ‘care facilities’ now, don’t they?”

“That place sucked ass-"

“Language!”

“-so I left. I’m responsible for myself.”

“Hm.” The dragon regarded Bakura dubiously. “And where does such a very responsible young man live?”

“I have my own place,” Bakura bragged. Nobody bigger or heavier than him could have found their way into the boarded-up house he was squatting in, and nobody smaller had the smarts to spot it or the balls to challenge him. It was his castle and he was its king.

But it didn’t come with free food, and he was getting desperate. Desperate enough to try breaking into a warehouse that turned out to belong to a _dragon._ He should have known his luck wouldn’t last.

As if to remind him of why he pulled such a dumbass stunt in the first place, Bakura’s stomach growled. The dragon blinked. “Was that you?”

Bakura rolled his eyes. “Who else would it be? I’m late for dinner, is all.”

“Hm.” The dragon looked thoughtfully at him. “I was just preparing my own dinner, as it happens. Come and help me with it, and I won’t turn you in to the authorities for breaking into my home. I’ll even pay you with a bowl.”

Bakura glared, full of suspicion, but - everyone knew dragons ate a ton of meat. The thought of something - anything - more filling than instant ramen made him feel dizzy. “Okay.”

“This way.” The dragon turned - and turned, and _turned_. His wingless body was incredibly long. As they ventured deeper into the warehouse and into better lighting, Bakura realized the small splashes he kept hearing weren’t coming from the docks outside; they were coming from the dragon’s feet, as water trickled down his legs and left a giant puddle with every step. They came to a grate that opened over the sea, and the dragon paused and undulated, making water gush off his body all over. The brown color all over his back darkened as he shrank visibly, down to about middleweight size (aside from his tremendous length).

“You’re a Sui-Riu!” Bakura exclaimed.

The dragon shook off the remaining water clinging to him and looked at Bakura with some concern. “You only figured that out now?”

“I was a bit preoccupied trying not to shit my pants.” He still kind of felt like he might. Sui-Riu lived for hundreds of years. A lot of people still thought they were holy. Bakura wondered if this one received a portion of the food-offerings from the local shrines.

“Don’t be vulgar. Come.”

Beyond the stacks of crates and shipping containers, they came to an open area in the centre of the warehouse. The dragon had four industrial-size pots bubbling away on a gas range, powered by a tank standing beside it.

Bakura sniffed the air. “Is that - fish porridge?”

“Of a sort.” The dragon dragged a crate over next to the pots and gestured for Bakura to climb up and take a look.

“Oh,” Bakura said faintly. “You just throw the fish in whole.” They bobbed crazily in the boiling rice gruel, their empty eyes seeming to follow Bakura as they drifted in and out of sight. If he weren’t so hungry he’d be grossed-out.

“I get them gutted first, but that’s it. Anyway, it’s almost ready to add the seasoning. By myself I use tongs-” the dragon indicated a giant pair lying nearby, clearly shaped for a clawed foot, “-but you can get the job done faster with your clever little hands. Two fistfuls of herbs from each bag into every pot, and then a fistful of salt. Hop to it!”

Bakura scurried back and forth from the giant grocery bags of herbs to the crate, throwing the ingredients in with as much accuracy as he could manage. When he struggled to hit the farther two pots, the dragon tsked and held out his foreleg; heart in his throat, Bakura climbed on and let the dragon boost him high enough to fling the ingredients.

At length the dragon took up a huge wok. “What’s that for?” Bakura asked.

“Sauteeing garlic, mostly.”

“Why bother sauteeing it?” Sometimes he stole a bulb and crunched right into it raw; he liked the sharp flavor, and if he did it in front of other people it made him look crazy and like no one should fuck with him.

“You really are feral, aren’t you?” The dragon scooped the wok full of porridge. He let it cool a moment, then slurped it up, pronounced it good, and turned off the gas. He refilled the wok and placed it in front of Bakura, along with the four-foot long wooden spoon he had used to stir the porridge. “As promised, thief. Say, we should know each other’s names before sharing a meal, don’t you think?”

Bakura looked longingly at the thick, aromatic porridge. Even the whole fish and uncut bunches of herbs (and the knowledge there was probably at least a trace of dragon saliva on the wok) didn’t deter him right now. “Bakura.”

“Ryou.”

This distracted Bakura for a moment. “So you’re Ryou the Riu?” he snickered.

Ryou rolled his eyes. “No one has ever made that joke before. How clever of you.” His tone was dry as dust.

“Maybe I’ll be smarter once I’m outside of this. _Itadakimasu.”_ He fell to slurping porridge off the enormous spoon. About halfway through he picked out the fishes one by one and ate them with both hands, stripping the skin and flaky flesh right off the bones, laying the bones and heads neatly on the ground beside the wok. When they were gone, the wok was light enough for him to pick up and guzzle from directly. He felt like he was expanding like a dried-up sponge placed into water, his body taking in all the healthy shit he couldn’t get from the crap he’d been scrounging for months. Even taking into account the sloppy, giant-style preparation, this was the homiest meal he’d had since- since- to his horror, he sniffled.

Ryou lifted his snout out of a pot. “Something wrong?”

“Good spices,” he rasped, “making my nose run.”

“Your precision was very helpful in getting the recipe right. Would you like another serving?”

Bakura looked at the pots, then at his swollen stomach. “In about five minutes this is going to feel like way too much as it is. I’ll barf if I eat any more.”

“Can I pack some up to send home with you?”

“Not much point; I don’t have a fridge.” Well, he did, but he just used it as a cupboard, because there was no power on in the house. He hated to admit it, but he hated the idea of letting food go to waste even more.

“Hmm. Hand me that wok.” Ryou filled it up and set it aside, then finished sucking up the porridge from the remaining pots. “Ahh, that’s a nice change. Lot of work bringing the fish ashore and getting them gutted, but well worth it.”

“You catch them yourself?”

“Of course! Nip them off from the school, blow them right into my net. Water currents are my specialty.”

“Right; Sui-Riu.” Time was, people believed the Sui-Riu could literally bring the rain; they were certainly more than capable of spot-irrigation, filling themselves up from lakes or rivers and carrying loads of precious water that saved drought-stricken communities from disaster. In the ocean, they could produce near-continuous jets forceful enough to knock planes from the sky. Come to think of it… “How old are you?”

“Mmm, about two hundred? No one was a stickler for counting in my early years.”

“Wow, so old.” The huge meal was starting to make itself known now. Bakura felt bloated, groggy, and punchy.

Ryou sat down, folding his forelegs in front of him and keeping his head up. The pose put Bakura in mind of an enormous cat. “Bakura… any first name?”

“None of your business.”

“You wouldn’t by any chance be one of the Kul Elna Bakuras?”

“No,” Bakura snapped much too quickly, then flinched. He should have said, 'Who?' and made it sound confused.

“Your community’s exile from Egypt was one of the first stones in the landslide that is about to bury the current Prime Minister over there; their assassination here in Japan will have been one of the last, I think. I predict absolute chaos by early 2012 at the latest.”

“Good,” Bakura spat. He added, “Not that I know what you’re talking about, or care,” but it sounded like a weak effort even to him. Ryou didn’t even acknowledge it. “Why do _you_ care so much anyway, old man?”

“Because I helped bring their ship in ten years ago.” Ryou looked at Bakura, and for the first time Bakura felt the sheer weight of the years behind those eyes, sifting through a store of memories twenty times Bakura’s own lifespan. “Eleven… you would have been just a babe, _truly_ an egg.” His eyes widened. “Why, you’re little Tōzokuō!” He even said it right. Bakura felt sick.

 _“Fuck_ you!” he yelled, jumping to his feet. He darted into the shadows of Ryou’s hoard of crates.

“Bakura, wait!” But Bakura was done. Ryou’s warehouse had weak points on the outside that a skinny human kid could exploit; the same was true of the inside. He leapt up the stacks, quiet as a cat in the dark even in his hurry, and before long he was back in sight of the same window he snuck in by. It was the work of a moment to slip through it and sprint away from the waterfront, only stopping in an alley to catch his breath and try to keep down his bellyful of good food.

Two more sprints like that and he was home. He forced himself to approach cautiously, checking all his ‘alarms’ of strategically-placed trash, but none of them were disturbed. His castle was still his.

He climbed up to the second story and wormed in the window, his approach shielded from view by the tree in the yard. Once inside he locked the window and pulled the blind, but he found he still didn’t feel safe. He gathered up all his scavenged and stolen blankets and retreated into one of the closets, pulling himself into the smallest ball possible, like his mother made him do in the basement the night they-

Well, there was no point thinking about any of that. This was a different house, with a different silence, different street noises and birdsongs outside. He wasn’t in the basement; he could tell because there was light outlining the door. The flooring under him had a different smell and feel - in fact, it was harder, and it was kind of making his butt go numb. He spent some time arranging his blankets into a nest, and by the time he was done he actually did feel calmer. Despite himself, he fell asleep.

* * *

He woke to a cacophony of cracking wood and screeching metal. His first sleepy thought was that the house had been condemned. He tried to look out his upstairs window for a wrecking crew, but couldn’t see anything. He crept down the stairs until he could peek out the front window, and swore out loud.

He opened the front door. Ryou barely paused in prying off the boards nailed over the doorway. “Good morning, Bakura.”

“What the _fuck.”_

“Now, is that any way to talk to your new landlord?”

“What the _fuck?”_

“The bank was quite happy to sell the house to me, sight unseen. They prefer liquid money to repossessed houses, apparently.”

“How?”

“How can I afford to buy an entire house out of pocket? I’ve been investing for two hundred years, and unlike winged dragons I can easily feed myself for free. I could buy a great many houses out of pocket if I wished.” Ryou moved on to pulling away the boards over the ground-floor windows.

“No, how did you find me?”

“I tracked you. You’re rather pungent, my young friend; that’s how I caught you last night. Speaking of, you should find the utilities have all been turned on, so you can get a shower before school.”

“Before fucking _what?”_

“You heard me. Do you want breakfast before or after?” Ryou removed a cooler from his shoulder harness and flipped open the lid to reveal steaming leftover fish porridge. “I even heated it up before I came over.” Ryou sniffed it. “Perhaps you had better eat it before your shower, get rid of all odors in one go.”

Bakura’s stomach thundered at him again, like last night’s hearty meal had raised its standards. Moving on autopilot, he went into the kitchen - and the lights did in fact turn on when he flicked the switch, how about that? - and fetched a spoon. Better to take advantage of free food before deciding what to do about having woken up in some bonkers dream.  

Halfway through the offered porridge, Bakura realized, “Heh. This is my first time on the front steps.” Sure, he was sitting on them, eating dragon food out of a cooler, with said dragon watching from the front lawn while wrapped one-and-a-half times around the house, but still. It was weirdly nice. The sunrise felt different in the open air versus through the blinds over the kitchen window.

“This is my first time away from the waterfront in twenty years,” Ryou replied.

“Stuck in your ways, old man.”

“Perhaps I have been. Perhaps I need a project.”

“And your idea of a project is being a mom-friend to _me?”_

“Call it destiny.” Ryou peered into the cooler and saw that Bakura was done. “Go and shower, and change into your cleanest clothes. Don’t dawdle, now; I shan’t be pleased if you’re late for school.”

“I call this my bad luck,” Bakura groused as he stomped upstairs.

Walking to school beside a two-hundred-foot dragon was trippy as hell. People kept staring at them. Bakura kept his head up and didn’t acknowledge them; he didn’t like attracting attention generally, but hell if he wasn’t going to own it. “So, landlord. What kind of rent are you asking?”

“Behavioural. You will eat breakfast and dinner with me, and help me prepare dinner. You will attend school, and do enough laundry to be presentable there. You will furnish - from my funds - my new human house in a current normal human fashion, and maintain it to civilized standards instead of the junkrat chaos I glimpsed through the upper windows.”

“Hey!”

“In return, in addition to providing room and board, I will register myself as your foster parent, so that you need no longer fear going back into the system. The system will have fulfilled its obligation to know where you are and who is looking out for you, and will never think about you again unless you draw attention to yourself.” Ryou didn’t turn his head, looking at Bakura out of one huge eye, as dark liquid brown as a seal’s. “Do we have a deal?”

Yup. Definitely some kind of bonkers dream. He might as well ride it out for as long as he could. “Deal.”

* * *

Forget a dream; this was a _nightmare._ “No! I won’t do it! I didn’t hack it on the streets to go back to wearing _underwear!”_

Ryou brandished a sheaf of paper. “I am reliably informed that they are a standard element of modern human clothing. Choose several packs and let’s move on.”

Bakura started to go for some tiny toddler’s briefs, and Ryou intoned, “If you get some that are too small and try to say they shrank in the wash, requiring us to go through this ordeal a second time, I will serve nothing but raw vegetables and hummus for a week. I remember how much you hated it as an egg.”

“You wouldn’t dare. _You_ can’t live on that shit. No one can.”

“It’s no scales off _my_ nose to eat fish raw from the net. I do it all the time.”

Bakura glowered and threw the most garish boxers he could see into the cart instead, and resolved to wear nothing else when he was at home and Ryou was around.

Then he decided that would get cold, so he also threw in the trashiest soap-opera housecoat in the store.

* * *

Bakura burst into the warehouse. “Landlord, help!”

Ryou was still hauling himself up onto the floor through the sea-door. “You’re early.” He was absolutely huge with seawater, his brown back a pale beige. He wobbled strangely as he moved. “What brings you here still in uniform?”

“I, uh, I pretended to know how to play Mazes & Monsters. It’s a game some dorks at school like.” Bakura faltered as he registered the size of the net full of fish Ryou lugged up behind him. “Shit, that’s a lot of fish. Are they even gutted yet?”

“Just gut and fry as many as you want for yourself. So you’re making friends? That’s good.”

“They’re not- I dunno. The point is somehow I ended up volunteering to host a game!”

“That’s wonderful!”

“No it isn’t! I have _no idea_ how to play Mazes & Monsters!” Bakura shrieked.

“Ah. Not to worry; I do.”

“What?”

“I’m sure I still have all the elements here somewhere…” Ryou barely remembered to offload his water before venturing into the stacks of his hoard. Bakura had learned that the haphazard scratches on the crates were not haphazard at all, but his own personal notation system. It took a surprisingly short time for him to come back with a crate and pop the lid off.

“Oh my God,” said Bakura, staring into the box that contained a huge folded mat, dozens of painted figurines (some with loops of wire attached that would be just large enough to fit over a dragon’s claw), a giant twenty-sided dice, and a half-dozen books, each thicker than a brick. “You’re a dork, too.”

“If you don’t want to embarrass yourself, it sounds like you’re going to have to get in touch with your own inner dork.”

“Ugh.”

* * *

“Sorry I’m late. Are you alright?”

“Where the _fuck_ have you been?” Bakura yelled. “I’ve been cooling my heels in this stupid warehouse as per your stupid rental agreement for two hours!” He got a closer look at Ryou. “Why are you covered in- is that _soot?”_ Ryou reeked of smoke. “Shit, Ryou, what _happened?”_

“There was a fire.” Ryou sounded exhausted. “Since I’ve become more involved in life on land again, I’ve been asked to rejoin the supplementary fire department. I couldn’t in good conscience refuse. And today they called me in.”

Bakura shivered. His family’s home hadn’t been burned down, but some of the other houses of the Kul Elna refugees had, the same night everything else happened. The blackened husks were the first thing he saw when he was removed. “Is everyone okay?”

“Yes, although several buildings are not.”

“Well, shit. I guess we need cellphones, so you can tell me the next time something like this happens.”

“That’s a very wise idea, Bakura. Let’s do that tomorrow.” He dragged himself through a halfhearted dinner and then more or less collapsed in the bedroom section of the warehouse.

“Hey…”

“Yes?”

“Want me to stay here tonight?”

“... It’s not a requirement, but if you don’t mind, I think that would be very pleasant.”

Of course Ryou had blankets in his hoard. They were covered in a _ridiculous_ amount of embroidery and stank of mothballs; they probably belonged in a museum. But they were warm, especially once Bakura settled onto the huge expanse of foam mattresses on pallets, surrounded by space heaters. “I thought dragons were warm-blooded?”  

“We are, but not as much as mammals, and I’m less efficient than a winged dragon. And the deep sea is quite cold. So I like a warm place to sleep.”

Bakura leaned back against Ryou’s neck. Even dry, he was so smooth as to be slippery.

At length Ryou said sleepily, “It’s been a long time since I had anyone who needed to be kept apprised of my whereabouts.”

“Shoulda read the fine print on the mom-friend contract,” Bakura mumbled.

* * *

“Bakura,” said the teacher, “your guardian is removing you early from school today. Please report to the pavilion.”

“Hey old man, what’s up?”

“Climb aboard, please.” His tone was very odd. Bakura clambered up to sit on Ryou’s shoulders. He wondered if Ryou wanted to talk about something Bakura wouldn’t want to talk about; it wasn’t a _huge_ distance to the ground, but especially once Ryou got moving Bakura would rather stay mounted than jump off.

“Have you checked the news today at all?”

“No, I was in class. And you know how much of a zombie I am before school. Why, what’s going on?”

“The Pharaoh Tunin-Ra has activated Provision 23 of the Egyptian Constitution.”

“What’s that one?”

“Exercising her role as Defender of the Realm, from threats both internal and external. She is going to give Prime Minister Khnurn the choice of resigning, or fighting her and about 80% of the population.”

“I hope he resigns,” Bakura said.

Ryou startled. “Really?”

“Really. If he shows weakness by resigning, the devils he bargained with will give him a death far slower and more painful than any he would receive in combat, even against the Pharaoh. Ra-fire’s too good for him,” he said fiercely, and when had he started shaking? When had he gripped Ryou’s harness so hard his hands looked bloodless? “Let _him_ live in fear until they come for him in the night, let _him-"_ he cut himself off before his voice broke.

“I’ve lived through a number of wars,” Ryou said gently, “I know something of what you mean.” He trotted along for awhile, then said, “Khnurn didn’t get this far by being a fool. He may do the same math as you, and fight.”

“Probably,” Bakura muttered, weary and disgusted. Hate was so exhausting; it made him feel like a wrung-out rag, twisted over and over for a few more futile drops. _So_ futile; how did it touch that smug bastard half a world away, that Bakura made himself sick with hating him? It didn’t. It made no difference to him at all.

“You know how I collect things, Bakura?”

“If someone drew your collection it would be called a racist caricature. Yes, I’m aware.”

“Well, not everything I collect is in those crates. I also collect favors, like the right to demand that a certain publishing house produce and promote a certain number of books of my choosing. If you were interested, once the coup is over and all the players have been removed from the field or brought to rest, you could tell your family’s story. The story they were massacred to keep from telling.”

“You’d do that?”

“It would be my pleasure. You will outlive the bastard, and then you will destroy his name. That has significance among your people, does it not?”

Amazingly, Bakura felt himself begin to smile. “Oh, yes. Very much so, yes.”

“Good. Final point on the agenda: there are about to be a great many opportunists in the wind for the next few weeks to months. No doubt some of them would not be above coming here to make use of you, one way or another, if they got wind of your identity. Until everything calms down over there, I would feel much safer with you staying in the warehouse.”

“Aw, man! But my laundry! Oh my fucking God, I can’t believe I just said that. What have you done to me?”  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. Fun fact: winged dragons in the Temeraire universe fly with the aid of air sacs (presumably somehow filled with a lifting gas). I can’t remember if this is how it works out in the books, but I prefer to believe this means they all float like corks and can’t submerge at all. That leaves diving as an ability enjoyed strictly by wingless dragons, and fishing as more of a hobby than a viable subsistence method for winged ones. 
> 
> 2\. Obviously I’m somewhat referencing the events that were occurring in our world in Egypt around the same time, but I’m not using real names or trying to reproduce the details because that would only end in disaster. It was a turbulent time for Egypt and a lot of power changed hands; that’s the end of the parallels.


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mana makes a breakthrough, and Atem dresses up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Moar smut! You're welcome!

_-Domino City, 2016-_

“Ow, ow!” Atem snorted in frustration and pried the lids of his left eye open again. “Move the mirror this way,” he tilted his head, and Mana obliged. “I really should have done this at home.”

“Done what?” Yugi sat down behind him and laced his arms around Atem’s waist, propping his chin on Atem’s shoulder. The sight and sensation was still so surprising that Atem no longer had to force his eyes wide; he took advantage of the moment and popped his second contact lens in.

“Hah!”

“You wear contacts?”

“Sometimes, when it’s worth the bother.” Atem moved on to applying an extra-thick layer of kohl: not just special-occasion thick, this was public-function-at-a-distance thick. It was actually easier to apply than everyday kohl, because it was impossible to put on too much. “Such as when my ears are busy holding up this thing.” He swept his hair back and put on his diadem. “I’ve learned from experience that I can’t wear it and my glasses at the same time without a severe headache later.”

Yugi’s eyes widened as Atem sorted his hair around the golden wings and forehead-eye. “Wow,” he said softly. “I thought you were dressed up last week, but I still wasn’t seeing the complete picture.”

“And now that you are seeing it? What do you think?” The diadem, the wafer earrings that reached nearly to his shoulders, the winged epaulets _on_ his shoulders, all combined with the stacked chokers and beaded usekh necklace to form an elaborate frame of gold and color around his face, which he often thought looked overwhelmed in the middle of all that splendor. It took a lot for him to don the full regalia of the Rafiq Al’Amira, but what Mana was planning to do today definitely deserved a show of support.

“I think,” Yugi said thoughtfully, “that you look like you could be from any time at all. I bet there are statues and paintings thousands of years old that look exactly like you.”

“You’d win that bet,” said Mana. “Most of that jewelry dates back to the time when a human was the Pharaoh, and the ‘Ra-Dragon’ was their companion.”

Atem squinted suspiciously at Mana. “I’m not about to start wearing a _shendyt_ for more authenticity. Not when I have to ride astride.”

“Not to worry,” she said airily, “those trousers with that embroidered sash are more than fair compensation… along with the cloak, of course.”

Atem sighed and anchored the purple cloak to the epaulets. “All this gold is heavy, you know. Covering it up with a cloak seems to defeat the purpose.”

Yugi said, “It definitely doesn’t.” He leaned in to plant a kiss at Atem’s jaw and murmured in his ear, “I won’t mess up your makeup before Mana’s big number, but later I want to show you _just_ how much I like this getup, okay?” He winked at Atem as he withdrew, cheeks red but brazening through his own embarrassment. It was like a superpower; Atem had no idea how to do that.

“O-okay,” he stuttered. It was so frustrating to still get flustered around Yugi! It seemed very unfair to still struggle with it even after making his feelings known.

Yugi’s smile softened and he squeezed Atem’s hand. “Seriously, you look great. You and Mana are going to be amazing.” This, on the other hand, was a _big_ improvement: Yugi responding to his discomfort and making it better.

The PA system whined, and then a child’s voice rang out: Mokuba Kaiba. “Your attention, please! Opening ceremonies will commence in fifteen minutes! All exhibition participants must now check in at the exhibition field!” Atem had barely met the boy, but it was clear he had the same love of being in charge as his older brother; he was just less abrasive about it.

Yugi gave him another quick peck on the jaw. “Gandora and I are early in the queue, so we should get going. I’ll see you.”

“See you,” Atem echoed, dizzy with happiness.

An hour later, as they waited behind a stand of trees that screened them from the spectators, Mana commented, “This _is_ very exciting. I’m glad I decided to participate.”

“There are a lot of ball-lightning spitters in Japan,” said Slifer. The whole area smelled strongly of ozone, and Kisara and Tristan had yet to do their number.

The visiting Ka-Riu finished spraying her curlicues of vitriol - the overhead view of the design appearing on a projection in front of the stands - and flew the same path a second time, her captain training a pressurized stream of neutralizing powder over the lines of bubbling ooze.

“And now, representatives from the hosting town of Domino! Starting with the Red-Eyes Black Tristan and captain Joey Wheeler, along with a member of our very own Kaiba family, the Blue-Eyes White _Kisara!_ Oh, and yours truly,” Mokuba joked, bowing from his perch on Kisara’s back, to laughter from the stands.

The combination of red and blue ball lightning was very impressive. Kisara and Tristan had been performing the same number for several years, and it showed in the perfect synchronization of the breath attacks they sent bouncing over the field of rubble (largely disintegrated at this point).

“And now, an exhibition by one of our most unique teammates. She makes lightning, but not as a breath attack. She powers her own infrared weapon and takes the sport of duelling to a whole new level. Give it up for Yugi Mutou and _Gandora!”_ Gandora flew in from a near-vertical approach, already sparking visibly, and when she swept low to the ground her lightning almost seemed to _splash_ as it discharged, spreading out into a skittering spiderweb. She sailed in a large arc, scattering bolts all the way, and then landed at the far end of the exhibition field. She roared as she was enveloped in a dome of lightning that then exploded outwards, in almost a mushroom cloud of electricity. It was halfway down the field towards the stands before it died away. Yugi waved, a tiny figure on her back, and Atem heaved a sigh of relief.

“I’m going to hand the mic off now to a very special guest,” Mokuba said as he and Kisara landed next to the stands. “Please give a warm welcome to Domino’s visitors, Slifer with Mahaad Sahir, and Atem Sennen presenting aboard Her Highness, _Princess Mana the Tunin-Ra!”_ The crowd went wild as Mana and Slifer flapped into view.

Mokuba wasn’t literally handing Atem the mic; he just waved a signal at Atem and pressed a button on his headset, and the mic clipped to Atem’s cloak squealed briefly as it went live. Atem took a deep breath and made sure he was standing such that his cloak streamed out behind him as they flew toward the stands. Showtime.

“Hello to the Domino Summer Duelling Festival! Is everyone having fun?” Scattered cheers. “I _said, is everyone having fun?”_ The crowd cheered louder.

Slifer brought his front foot up to his ear, Mana spread her wings to their most dazzling golden expanse, and Atem roared, _“I can’t hear you!”_ This part of the job was a lot more fun ever since his voice dropped. The crowd went nuts.

“Well, we have a treat for you today: two demonstrations of very special Egyptian breath attacks: Slifer’s variation on the Lung Tien ability Divine Wind, and something Egyptians call ‘Ra-fire’. Both of these attacks are very powerful, and to witness them safely you need to do a couple of things. Slifer and Mahaad are going to help us practice, so do what they do.” Slifer opened one wing to wave to the crowd; a few kids and cheeky adults waved back.

“Now, when I say, ‘cover your ears,’ you’re going to cover your ears. Ready? Cover your ears!” Slifer covered his ears with his wings, and Mahaad was similarly exaggerated in wrapping his arms around his head. Atem was pleased to see most of the small children in the crowd following suit; they had the most sensitive hearing, so that was good.

“Just one more to learn! It’s called, ‘shield your eyes’. Ready to copy Slifer and Mahaad? Shield your eyes!” Slifer and Mahaad made a similar production of covering their eyes. Supposedly Kaiba had a holographic flash-field up, but better safe than sorry.

“Excellent! Now the dragons are ready to show you what they can do.” They both took off, gaining height quickly in mirror-image spirals, two bright heavyweights building up to a display of deadly power.

Atem kept talking as they climbed. “Slifer makes the Divine Wind in the open air instead of in his chest. It turns out two mouths are better than one!”

Slifer began his descent from their agreed-upon staging height. As he reached attack position, half a mile from the stands and facing away from them, Mahaad could be heard faintly as he shouted, “All above!” and Slifer twitched his tail to signal Atem.

Atem shouted, “This is it! Cover your ears!” and Slifer unleashed his terrible roar. Even from where Mana was, Atem could feel it vibrate in his sternum. Every piece of debris in front of Slifer on the field that wasn’t metal shivered and dissolved to dust (and much of the metal fell to pieces). Gasps rose from the crowd as the monitor showed a closeup of the damage on the projection screen.

Mana began her descent. “The ancients believed Ra-fire was the fire of the sun, the favor of the gods,” said Atem with increasing intensity, “Now - all above! _Shield your eyes!”_ Atem hollered, and did so himself. Mana roared, and her fire seemed to roar back as Atem heard it stream down and flow over the ground below.

It went on for a long time. When Mana’s roar ceased, Atem uncovered his eyes and took a look. Thankfully, Kaiba’s flash-field appeared to have activated, so the failsafe of people covering their eyes was not needed.

Mana was quivering almost imperceptibly, but the tremor under Atem’s feet went away when she glanced back and verified that he was still above.

The demolition field was… slag. Parts of it looked almost as liquefied as after the round of Ka-Riu vitriol. Other parts were glowing. Very little was actually on fire - most combustibles were reduced to ash at once - but what smoke there was was acrid.

“The fate of Egypt has been shaped by Ra-fire for millennia,” Atem told the shocked, silent crowd. “We give thanks for every day that it need not be used in combat.”

Mokuba thankfully sensed that Atem was not sure how to bring back the festive mood, and took over. “How about a big round of applause for our Egyptian heavyweights! Or should I say heavy- _hitters?”_ The clapping was tentative at first, then more enthusiastic as Slifer and Mana performed elegant draconic bows, with Mahaad and Atem following suit on their backs.

“Last but not least, Domino’s resident Sui-Riu and volunteer firefighter, Ryou!” Ryou waddled into view, looking astoundingly large, pale, and fat. He opened his mouth wide, and water sprayed from his throat in a graceful arc onto the field. Steam billowed up in clouds as he extinguished the residual heat in the ground, shrinking slowly as the water left his body. The residual tension palpably left Mana’s body at about the same rate.

“And with that, I declare the annual Summer Dueling Festival open!”

Atem bowed and waved on autopilot for the cheering crowd as all the exhibitors came back into view together for one last salute. He wanted to check in with Mana in private.

“I’m fine, really,” she insisted back at the Domino dueling team’s temporary pavilion. “In fact I feel better now than I did beforehand! I should have nerved myself up to do something like that sooner.”

“You _did_ do it sooner,” Atem muttered. Insistence from all sides had led her to resume drills almost as soon as Atem was discharged from the burn unit. Officially those drills had been a success, but in private they had made her a nervous wreck. Putting a stop to the drills was the first time Atem had opposed both his mother and Her Majesty in a direct confrontation.

“Well, some time has passed, and it truly was easier this time. Don’t worry so much, Atem.” She butted him gently with her snout.

“Pretty sure worrying is in my job description somewhere,” Atem said, leaning into her and scratching the wrinkles around her nostrils - still hot.

“It’s also in your job description to do whatever I require of you, and right now I require you to _have fun,”_ she said slyly, then raised her voice. “Hello, Yugi! That was a fantastic demonstration by you and Gandora!”

“Hello, Mana, and thank you! Do you think I could borrow Atem for a few minutes?”

“By all means. This tent is empty right now; I’ll keep it that way if you promise to tell Atem how nice he looks in his crown.”

“I was planning to do that anyway,” said Yugi, his cheeks very red.

“I love how often we’re on the same page,” she said cheerily.

“It’s a _diadem,”_ Atem sighed, to no acknowledgement whatsoever as Yugi pulled him into the tent. No sooner did the flap close than Yugi was shoving him back and down onto one of the folding cots set up around the perimeter of the tent.

They’d had a few days now of stolen moments, breathless kisses and touches in dark corners, and Atem had learned some things:

  1. Yugi really liked pushing Atem around, just a little.
  2. Atem really, _really_ liked letting him.
  3. Yugi was something of a dirty talker.



“I wanted to tell you before,” Yugi said in between kisses, “what I really thought of you in this outfit. But I didn’t want you to be distracted, so I was good. I was polite. But now I don’t have to be.” He pulled back, and Atem’s lipstick was smeared obscenely across Yugi’s mouth, and somehow he already had smudges of Atem’s kohl on his face. His pupils were huge. “You look fucking legendary like this, like a fantasy I never knew I had. I want to get on my knees for you and I want to take you apart. Can I take your pants off, Atem?” His voice was so soft, so eager. Atem shivered and nodded, parting his legs. Yugi’s smile was as bright as always, his sincere delight in Atem’s company only deepened by this new thing they could do together.

He figured out Atem’s sash and trousers quickly enough, and pulled them down to his ankles, hunkering down between them with his hands on Atem’s knees. “Oh, wow. I thought you couldn’t get any prettier, but half-unwrapped like this is so, _so_ pretty.”

It was ridiculous for Atem to blush harder at Yugi’s words than at his erection bobbing around in the open air in front of another person, but there it was. Yugi noticed. “You like that?” he crooned. “You like being called pretty, babe? You are, you know.” He reached out and grasped Atem’s cock in his warm, dry hand, turning it gently this way and that while he looked at it, learning the shape and feel of it beyond some rushed blind groping. “You’re so different from me here: less skin, more hair. But I like it.” He leaned forward and took a deep sniff, then licked the head. Atem’s hips arched of their own accord.

“Yugi,” he whined, already starting to sweat.

“Wow,” said Yugi, “You taste really good. Can I suck you?”

Atem was torn. “That sounds wonderful, but I also like you talking to me.”

“How about I suck you while you talk?”

“About what?”

“Whatever you want! Uh, maybe the stuff you want to try from porn?” He bent his head and swirled his tongue around the tip of Atem’s cock.

Atem swallowed. “I don’t really look at porn,” he said.

Yugi jerked his head up. “Seriously?”

Atem shrugged. “My family home is a pavilion house with dragon-sized windows in every room." And a traumatized Mana keeping _very_ close tabs on him just as he entered puberty. “I barely touch myself.”

“That’s tragic. I love porn; it gives me so many ideas. But hey!” Yugi tapped the side of Atem’s head. “You have privacy in here; tell me what you like to think about?” He licked his lips and bent his head again, sliding Atem’s cock through the ring of his slick lips and into his mouth.

“I don’t know, I don’t know,” Atem gasped, “it’s all so formless and vague compared to this. Compared to you,” he added, sliding his fingers into Yugi’s hair.

He was telling the truth; when he fantasized about sex, it was mostly very nebulous, revolving around being - known. Wanted. Taken care of. Just the sort of thing Yugi was doing now, really: neither dazzled nor put off by the trappings of Atem’s office, peeling back those layers to connect with who he was on the inside, finding that private Atem worthwhile all on his own. His friends and family did it too, but for a lover to do it was - so new. So special.

So _good;_ Yugi’s mouth was driving him crazy, reducing him to a shuddering mess, making him moan so wantonly he shocked himself. He alternated lavish licking with sliding Atem’s cock in and out of his mouth, burying the shaft as far as he could (not very far, but Atem was _not complaining)_ in hot, silky suction. Atem supposed he had porn to thank for Yugi’s care in keeping his teeth off.

Yugi came up for air, and said, “Hey, can I put a finger inside you?”

“What?”

“I do it to myself all the time; it feels _really_ nice. Can I do that for you? Will you let me?”

“I trust you,” Atem whispered, and spread his legs. Yugi’s eyes crossed.

“Fuck, you’re so sexy.” He slurped his own finger into his mouth and removed it with a pop, then nudged Atem’s legs a little wider. He engulfed Atem’s cock and started stroking Atem’s hole at the same time. Atem jumped, and then moaned as Yugi gave him a particularly hard suck and pressed gently into the ring of muscle at the same time.

“Ah, ah, ah! Oh, _gods.”_ Yugi’s mouth on his cock was amazing enough, but somehow this new touch was making him fall to pieces even more. It was the smallest, gentlest exploration, Yugi’s slim finger sliding in and probing around, but just the knowledge that a part of Yugi was _inside Atem’s body_ had him shuddering and writhing as his arousal twisted in his gut. He curled his fingers in Yugi’s hair, gripping but trying not to pull, and panted open-mouthed.

“I’m close,” he warned, “I’m - ah, ah, hhaaa, hnngh!” His whole body clenched as he came, and when he clamped down on Yugi’s finger it was like he came a second time before he finished the first, a fresh surge of come spurting into Yugi’s mouth (he had not taken the opportunity to pull off).

He lay there huffing for air, flinching when Yugi withdrew his finger and when he released Atem’s cock, for all that he did both gently. Yugi crawled up onto the cot, kneeling over Atem’s thighs and kissing his slack mouth with enthusiasm. He tasted of Atem; it made Atem’s cock twitch.

“That,” Yugi said into his mouth, “was amazing. Those little noises you made with my finger up in you? _So hot._ I just about lost it right there.”

“But you didn’t?” Atem ascertained, feeling at Yugi’s crotch: yes, he was still hard and needy, rutting against Atem’s thigh.

“Nope, saved myself for you, babe.” Yugi hastily unbuckled his pants with Atem’s fumbling help, and then shoved them down to bare his ass and let his cock spring free. Atem heaved himself up to a sitting position so that Yugi was in his lap, which he liked very much, and so he could take his own turn looking and touching his fill of Yugi’s cock, which was so exciting his mouth went dry.

“I see what you mean,” he mused, “more skin, less hair.” He jacked him leisurely, fascinated by Yugi’s foreskin sliding back and forth over the hard tissue beneath. Yugi’s response was very gratifying, jittering and grinding on Atem’s thighs.

“Mmngh, ha, you’ve got me so worked up, Atem. I’m not gonna last very long, you’re making me feel so good.”

“I want to make you feel good,” Atem managed to say. It was incredible how much Yugi’s praise affected him, making his face flush and his belly churn with how much he loved it. An idea struck him, and he laid his other hand on Yugi’s hip. “You said, ah, that you like touching yourself - back here.” Greatly daring, he rubbed a finger at the top of Yugi’s cleft. “Would you like me to…?”

“Fuck, yes, please yes.” Yugi snatched up his hand and sucked a finger wet, then guided him through rubbing the little pucker until the muscle relaxed a bit, just like Yugi did to him. When Atem eased his finger inside, Yugi grabbed his shoulders in both hands and clung to him, shuddering. “Not long now, oh my God that’s nice. Move a little, just-" Atem tried pressing with his finger (he felt wonderful inside, a hot, smooth, incredibly tight sleeve of muscle) and jacking Yugi’s cock at the same time. Yugi laughed breathlessly. “That’s it, that’s so perfect, fuck, Atem, I’m so close.”

“I can see that.” Yugi was flushed, his eyes huge and sparkling, his mouth hanging open but still smiling. Little gasps came from that mouth as he rocked back onto Atem’s finger and forward into Atem’s hand; Atem leaned in and kissed him, and Yugi laughed into the kiss.

“Do it,” he said against Atem’s lips, “do it, make me come just like this, I- oh! _Oh!”_ he arched his back and came, squeezing Atem’s finger and shooting ropes of come into Atem’s hand and all over his wrist and thighs.

“Oh, shit,” Yugi panted, “I made a mess.”

Atem chuckled. “I’m sure the bracelets have seen worse.” He mopped it all up with his shirttail, which would be tucked into his trousers and secured there with his sash once he got dressed.

They tucked each other away slowly, between tired kisses. “Come over to my house tomorrow, after the junior preliminaries are done,” Yugi murmured. “We’ll have the day after off for the peewee finals and the seniors-only specialty events. We can stay up late until Joey falls asleep on the couch, and then go up to my room and - well.” His voice was full of warm, dark promise.

Atem shivered. “Yes. I’d like that.”

“I’ll make sure you do.”

“Not to intrude, but I can’t help but notice a general decrease in noise from your general direction, and I’ve bribed almost all our teammates to stay away with promises of free food from the festival booths, and I’m not sure what else to deploy once they start returning.”

“Alright, Mana, we’re coming.” Just because he could, Atem took Yugi’s hand as they stepped out of the tent. His line of sight fell instantly on a strange man watching them from closer to the main festival grounds, cellphone raised. With a conscious effort, Atem neither dropped Yugi’s hand nor squeezed it harder. Everyone who mattered back home had already been apprised of his new relationship, and there didn’t seem to be much of a market for paparazzi photos in Japan. Besides, he could just be snapping a photo of Mana, lounging companionably next to Gandora, both of them clearly watching over the tent entrance; no doubt it made for a cute picture.

Despite his best efforts, Yugi must have noticed his sudden tension. “Something wrong, babe?”

Atem glanced back towards the grounds. The man was gone. “It’s nothing. Come, let’s go cheer on the peewee captains.”

“And reimburse everyone I bribed,” Mana said ruefully.

“And get some food ourselves!” said Gandora. “You boys need to keep up your strength! I was reading about human mating habits and-”

“Mana will bribe you with any food you want if you stop talking now,” Atem said desperately over the sound of Yugi cracking up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. shendyt: a men’s skirt worn in ancient Egypt. 
> 
> 2\. If you thought I was going to take the opportunity to write a different dynamic for these boys, then you underestimated my love for toppy perv Yugi and sweet needy Atem. The only real change is they are teenage dumbasses getting to know each other and their sexualities the old-fashioned teenage dumbass way. 
> 
> 3\. Peewee is Mokuba’s age division. You’d better believe he is lobbying for a cooler name.


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which our melodramatic teenagers continue to be over-the-top.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THE SMUT DAM HAS BROKEN. EVERYONE INTO THE LIFEBOATS.

“Oh man, I’m stuffed!” Joey groaned. “Yugi, can I marry your mom?”

“Get in line,” said Téa. “I saw her first.”

Yugi laughed. “I think Téa has the advantage! Didn't you say once that you're done with men, Mom?" 

“Setting aside the fact you are all _infants,_ the bar is a lot higher than liking my cooking. Has everyone had enough to eat?” Everyone around the table nodded their heads, and Mom headed outside to check on the dragons. Mana was footing the bill to feed them (with only six years of investment, Gandora’s trust fund didn’t exactly leave a ton of room for entertaining multiple draconic guests), but Mom still felt ownership over everything being properly seared and seasoned.

Atem was looking at Yugi curiously.

“What?”

He glanced at the rest of the room, including Grandpa. “Later.”

‘Later’ turned out to be _much_ later: after Téa heaped another round of congratulations on Yugi, Joey, and Atem for all making it to the junior finals and left for the night; after Grandpa and then Mom turned in; and after Joey dozed off on the couch mid-Smash Brothers. Yugi pulled a blanket over him and turned off the TV, then he and Atem crept up to Yugi’s room.

“What was it you were going to ask me?” Yugi flicked on his lamp and sat down on his bed, patting the mattress for Atem to sit down beside him.

“Oh.” Atem looked embarrassed. “I just realized you never talk about your father. I didn’t want to ask in front of your family in case it’s a sensitive issue.”

“Good call; Mom and Grandpa don’t like to talk about it.” Yugi shrugged. “There’s not much to say. Not only is he not in the picture; he never was. Mom got pregnant by accident, but she wanted me and he didn’t, so he ran.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, well.” Yugi spread his arms. “His loss, right?”

Atem pulled him into a hug. “He was a fool.” His arms felt really good around Yugi, who hugged him back just as tight, taking a deep, unsteady breath. Who knew he still had feelings about this?

Time to change the subject before the mood was killed completely. “What about your dad?” Ugh! Barely better.

Atem loosened the hug, stroking Yugi’s upper arms mindlessly; Yugi tried to listen instead of melting into a puddle of goo. “Father works as a diplomat. He’s somewhat overshadowed by Mother, but he doesn’t seem to mind; it’s not as if she wasn’t already Rafiq Almalika when she proposed.”

 _“She_ proposed?”

“Protocol; she represents the Pharaoh. And it’s fairly common in Egypt generally.”

“Huh.” Yugi supposed having a female monarch for thousands of years in a row would affect gender roles.

“I apologize,” Atem said ruefully, “somehow I doubt you brought me up here to talk about our parents.”

“Not exactly,” Yugi admitted, “but it’s not like I mind. I want to know everything about you.”

Atem stared at him. “You really mean that.”

His shy smile was too adorable; Yugi had to kiss it. “Of course.” Atem all but tackled him then, rolling them onto their sides on Yugi’s little bed, and Yugi was for once grateful to be little himself, so that there was room for someone else provided they were little too, like Atem. He moaned so softly his voice was more of a subvocal growl, rocking his hips against Yugi’s, trying to stay quiet even as Yugi worked his hands up under his shirt to try rubbing at his nipples. They hardened into pebbled nubs under his fingers almost immediately, and when Yugi pinched them gently and rolled them Atem thrashed.

Yugi wanted very badly to see Atem’s body outlined in the low light of his room, take in every detail as he reacted to Yugi’s touches. “Hey, can I take your shirt off?”

Atem grasped the hem of his shirt, then hesitated and glanced upward. “The skylight.”

“Oh, good thinking.” Yugi hopped up onto his desk and popped the two-way latch on the skylight, then hauled himself up until his head was poking out over the roof and hollered, “Hey, Gandora!”

“Yes?”

“Nobody stick their face in my window for at least, uh, two- no, make that four hours! Okay?”

“Okay!”

Yugi dropped back onto the desk and re-latched the skylight. “Now, where were we?”

Atem had his hands over his face, but his flush - beet-red even under the dark brown of his skin - was visible all the way down his neck. “I can’t believe you just did that.”

Yugi settled in beside him again, stroking his flank. “Hey, one time giving Gandora an eyeful and then having to explain it was one time too many for me.”

“Gods! I would die. I would _die._ But to just _ask_ like that - it’s beyond me.”

“I don’t get how you can be such a talented public speaker and still be so shy.”

Atem lowered his hands. “That’s not talent. That’s a learned skill. I write down and rehearse what I want to say for any appearance of more than the most minor importance.”

“The words, sure, but you have this whole - delivery. You widen your stance and change your tone, and even start waving your arms around sometimes.” Even at a distance he was mesmerizing yesterday, his voice rolling like thunder from the speakers, cloak flowing behind him as he stood on Mana’s back like he was commanding armies, not leading a safety demonstration at a town fair. He was similar when dueling, though more focused than theatrical.

Atem looked thoughtful. “Mahaad says I’m what happens when an introvert grows up in a fishbowl. That I don a public persona like a veil.”

“You don’t agree?” It sounded about right to Yugi, from what he’d seen.

“I don’t like the idea that my role isn’t a part of me just because it isn’t all of me. Do you know what ‘Rafiq’ means?”

“No.” Shit, maybe Yugi should try to learn some Arabic. Or Coptic? Or both. Atem’s Japanese was so good he hadn’t even thought about it.

“It means, literally, ‘Companion’. A Tunin-Ra’s Rafiq is her connection to humanity, the friendship that keeps her grounded in the present and serving Egypt in good faith. I do what I do because it’s what Mana needs, and because I love her. _You_ know.”

“I do know,” Yugi said quietly. Gandora’s needs were so few Yugi didn’t even think of helping her with them as work, but if it came right down to it there wasn’t much Yugi wouldn’t do for her.

“How can that not be a part of myself?”

“That’s - a very good point.” Yugi pushed up and threw a leg over Atem’s hips. “And I gotta say, I’m into the whole-” he ground his hardness into Atem’s for emphasis, loving the way it made Atem’s breath catch, “-package.” He winked outrageously, and Atem dissolved into giggles; Yugi followed him when Atem snorted, and they ended up in a jiggling heap.

“You’re terrible,” Atem wheezed at last.

“You’re terribly _hot.”_ Yugi kissed him to make his point. All this talking was great, honestly, but his libido was starting to feel like it wanted a turn, and judging by the way Atem arched up against him, his wasn’t the only one. He slipped his hands up under Atem’s shirt and stroked over his belly and up his ribs, pushing the shirt as he went. “Off, get this off, please?”

This time Atem didn’t hesitate to peel out of it. Yugi couldn’t believe this was the first time he got to look his fill on purpose. He already knew Atem was lean and brown, with a bit more muscle than Yugi, but this close he got to see the way his nipples were an even darker brown, and the black hairs curling at his chest and armpits and in a line down his belly. He buried his fingers in Atem’s chest hair, then his nose, snuffling at it, sneezing when it tickled. Atem chuckled.

“Hey, can you blame me? It’s so different from what I’ve got!”

Atem raised an eyebrow. “Prove it?” Ohh, that was interesting: a little of that lordly swagger leaking back in as sass. Yugi liked it; he should reward Atem.

“Only fair.” Yugi stripped off his own shirt and stayed sitting up as Atem let his own eyes and hands roam. He looked down, suddenly feeling pale and scrawny compared to Atem, so richly masculine.

Atem must have seen some of that on his face, because he said seriously, “Yugi, look at me.” When Yugi finally made eye contact - it was surprisingly hard when he was feeling self-conscious, and he felt a sudden stab of empathy for all of Atem’s awkward moments - Atem said, “You’re beautiful, Yugi. I feel so lucky to be here, allowed to do this.” He pushed himself up onto his elbows, then put one hand at the small of Yugi’s back as he pushed the rest of the way to sitting upright with the other. They wound up both sitting on the bed with their legs apart, Yugi’s on top of Atem’s.

Atem’s hands crept up Yugi’s back, and it sent Yugi pressing their bodies together, all the way down. He put his hands around Atem’s shoulders and kissed him as deep as he could, stroking Atem’s tongue with his own, grasping the back of Atem’s neck like he might try to get away. He wanted inside Atem so badly, all over and all at once, wanted to fill every hole with himself.

He reached down to Atem’s shoulderblades with splayed fingers to steady himself as he ground against him, and Atem’s posture went stiff - and not just in the good way. Yugi’s fingertips brushed strangely rough skin, and he could have kicked himself when he remembered.

“I have a scar there,” Atem said unnecessarily.

Yugi withdrew his fingers. “Sorry. Does it hurt?”

“No - it doesn’t feel much beyond itching sometimes. I just don’t want it to put you off.”

“It doesn’t bother me. I kind of already knew about it? I saw it that time you were wrestling with Mahaad.”

“You never said anything.”

“Not my place to ask.”

“Ask me later,” Atem groaned, humping impatiently up against Yugi, “more of this right now.”

“We should take off our pants,” Yugi realized.

“You’ve trapped me in mine.”

“Not for long!” Yugi rolled off him and wriggled out of his pants as fast as he ever had in his life. Atem’s pants were tighter, and Yugi helped him tug them off his ankles and threw them across the room. And then they were naked, both naked together, and oh fuck it was a lot. A lot of skin to rub together, glorious warmth everywhere they touched. Yugi found himself lying down on top of Atem again, grinding his cock against Atem’s, and this was _so much better_ without clothes!

“Yugi,” Atem panted, “I’m not going to last.” His chest was heaving, his skin sheened with sweat in the lamplight.

“Same,” Yugi mourned, “waited too long. I wanted to get inside you again.” He thrust against Atem’s shaft and watched Atem twist and shiver with reaction. He wanted very much to see him react to Yugi’s cock - or anything really - inside him, but there was nothing for it. His balls were already drawing up.

“In a little while, we can go again,” Atem promised, heavy-lidded. “Do it then, I want that, I- I- ohhh!” His cock swelled against Yugi’s and jerked, and he arched off the bed as he came, spurting up his own chest. Yugi’s own orgasm felt almost punched out of him by the sight. He tried hard not to crush Atem’s cock as he pressed as close as he could get, kissing Atem clumsily as he shook.

He collapsed when it was over, like a marionette with its strings cut, feeling the hot mess of come sliding between their bellies and the way Atem’s chest lifted him as it rose and fell. Their rapid breathing was loud in the quiet room; Yugi was glad they were upstairs, with the door and skylight closed.

After they caught their breath, and cleaned up with the baby wipes Yugi kept in his desk, and bundled under the covers, Yugi cleared his throat. “So, buttsex.”

Atem made a _pfft_ noise and more of those snorting giggles. Yugi grinned, speechless with love for this dork.

When he calmed down, Yugi continued. “Experiments on myself suggest porn is _lying_ about how much prep is involved, and the internet agrees. In reality the more relaxed the, uh, receiver is, the better. An orgasm is a good start; do you think maybe I could rub your back, too?”

Atem smiled at him, more serious now but still so happy. It warmed Yugi all the way down to his toes. “You take such care, Yugi. I love it. Yes, by all means.”

“Okay,” Yugi said, dry-mouthed, “roll over, then.”

Yugi kept lotion in the same drawer as the baby wipes (and now the condoms and lube). After a moment’s consideration - and to ride out the pang as his cock tried valiantly to get hard again already at the sight of Atem laid out so trustingly on his front - he sat down right on Atem’s buttocks. “Ooh, squishy.”

“Are you saying I have a fat ass?”

“I’m saying you have a _nice_ ass,” Yugi said, wriggling. “Very meaty. I’ll have to work hard not to bite it once I make my way down here.” He covered his hands in goop and squeezed Atem’s trapezius muscles. “Let me know if you want more pressure - or less.”

“More, I think,” Atem said dreamily, then groaned as Yugi dug in, “ugh, yes, that’s wonderful.”

Yugi worked gingerly up the back of Atem’s neck and all along the tops of his shoulders, then moved down between his shoulderblades.

“Can I ask about this now?” The scar definitely resembled the photos of healed skin grafts from Mom’s textbook. After a moment’s hesitation, he started kneading the muscles underneath as if the corrugated patch of skin was no different from the rest.

“2012 was a difficult year for Egypt.” Atem’s voice was distant, dispassionate. Yugi dug in harder and he sounded a bit more present, but not much. _“Ugh_ , yes, like that. Almost two decades of steadily worsening political corruption exploded into a revolution. Even the Pharaoh got involved, which if you know - _hha,_ a little lighter on that knot - anything about our Constitution will tell you just how extreme things got.”

“Egypt is a democracy, right? The Pharaoh’s power is symbolic.”

“A constitutional monarchy, to be exact, but when the monarch is a - _oof_ \- a twenty-ton firebreather, that power can be more than symbolic if the need is dire enough. Anyway, Mana and Mahaad and I were dispatched to see to Slifer’s hatching, and ran afoul of some... opportunists. Mana had to fight to escape with us. She tried a difficult turn she hadn’t practiced much while firing, especially not with a load in her belly netting. It was going to cross the line of fire. I had a Kevlar vest on, so I covered the top of the netting.”

“You took it all on your back?” Yugi shuddered, hands gone still. Atem would have been all of _twelve._ And poor Mana must have been a wreck; no wonder she had issues using her fire around Atem now.

“She stopped almost instantly, of course, but Ra-fire is very hot. I got a graft from my thigh; I had an interesting scar there too, for a while, but it disappeared.”

“I can see why you change with your front to the rest of the locker room. I wouldn’t want to have to tell that story over and over.”

“Exactly. I’m actually rather proud of my scar - I got it saving my best friend and Mana’s brother. But it’s private.”

“Mana’s _brother?”_

“Oh. Yes.” Atem turned his head and peered at Yugi. “This is not for repeating, but Slifer is the offspring of Muhra and a Lung Tien.”

“A _Celestial?!_ But they’re only fertile with Lung Qin - Imperials!”

“Only for lack of trying. A British Celestial made an egg with a Kazilik once. Muhra is rarified enough that a male Lung Tien deemed the experiment worthwhile and accepted her invitation. Cheng. He seemed nice enough, learned all our languages right away. I think he and Slifer email from time to time.” Atem shimmied. “What happened to that backrub?”

Yugi started up again, head spinning. “I think it’s good I’m learning all this while we’re both naked and I’m sitting on your ass,” he reflected. “It’s very grounding.” He definitely would have felt more intimidated to hear Atem speak so casually of actual combat, and relations between the rarest dragons in the world, if they had been fully-clothed and not touching. As it was, it was just the same thing he already knew: Atem was a badass and an aristocrat, but also a huge nerd and a warm, eager body against his own.

 _Very_ eager - he was getting more restless as Yugi worked his way down to his lower back. When Yugi sank the heels of his hands into the small of his back, his groan was so guttural Yugi’s cock twitched. “You like that, Atem? You want me to keep going?”

“Yes, please.”

“Okay, get your legs apart I guess, so I can kneel behind you.” He used up the last of the lotion on his hands kneading Atem’s buttocks, watching Atem squirm and grind his cock down into the mattress.

“I gotta-" he used a wipe on his hands to make sure there was no lotion left; he didn’t know how much oil would damage a condom but he was taking no chances. He set one in its packet by his knee, then popped open the lube bottle. “Oh wow.”

“What?”

“I’ve been an idiot, jacking off with lotion all these years. Feel this.” He leaned forward and found Atem’s hand, making him feel how slick his fingers were.

“That’s - very slippery.” Atem was starting to sound as breathless as Yugi felt, thrilling to the enormity of this new thing they were about to try.

“Yeah, this is gonna be _good.”_ He pulled Atem’s asscheeks apart and got his first proper look at his hole, and swallowed. It was really tiny.

“One step at a time,” he reassured himself, and stroked it with a glistening finger. This much he knew how to do, had done to himself and Atem both. Atem sighed, and the little wrinkled pucker softened against the pressure, and gave easily when Yugi pushed his fingertip in.

“Wow. Yeah, I’ve definitely been an idiot. Lube is amazing. You’re just about swallowing me up, I barely have to push at all.” Yugi stared at the way the ring of muscle pursed around his finger, indenting when he pushed in, dragging a little when he pulled out.

Atem sounded much less calm as he choked out, “More - please, Yugi, I need more.”

“Okay, here goes.” Yugi drew his finger out, then pushed back in with two. Atem made a low, shuddering noise, and it pulled at the banked fire in Yugi’s abdomen, bringing him closer to Atem’s level of desperation. “You like that? It doesn’t hurt, does it?”

“Just - a stretch, but it feels good?”

“I’ll have to take a turn sometime and find out. But right now this is all about you, babe.” His ass gaped a little more with two fingers, the wrinkled skin starting to smooth out. Yugi twisted his fingers, watching the oblong stretch rotate, then tried prising them apart like scissors. Atem moaned. “You’re doing so good, Atem, taking this so well, getting ready for me.”

He didn’t know where this patter kept coming from, like sex opened some kind of channel for filthy praise to fall straight from his brain and out his mouth. It would be embarrassing if it didn’t so obviously turn Atem’s crank. Like now: he shivered and spread his legs a little wider, pushing back onto Yugi’s fingers.

“Pretty soon I’m gonna f-fuck you with my cock, get it deep just like this-" he buried his fingers all the way to the third knuckles, and found a lump that made Atem turn his face into Yugi’s pillow to muffle his shout as his hips jerked. “Oh, that’s gotta be your prostate, your sweet spot, I’m gonna remember where that is. Want to make you feel so good, Atem.”

“You are,” said Atem hoarsely, “you always do. Please, another.”

The stretch was definitely tighter with three fingers, and Atem’s moan was higher - it had to burn. Yugi pulled most of the way out and drizzled on more lube, then worked his way back in with little pushes of his hand, a millimetre deeper at a time, feeling the rings of muscle slowly start to relax. “That’s it, you’re doing great. You’re almost ready.”

“M’ready _now,”_ Atem slurred.

“Nope, but almost. Not gonna risk hurting you, babe, never wanna hurt you.”

“Don’t _care,_ I wanna _feel_ you- _unh!”_ Yugi pushed firmly into his prostate, almost cupping it in his three fingertips.

 _“I_ care. Let me be good to you.” Atem made a noise that almost sounded like a sob then, and his posture subtly relaxed, like he’d accepted that Yugi was driving this. He loosened another increment around Yugi’s fingers.

“Yes, fuck, just like that. God, you’re so soft and smooth and _hot_ inside.” Yugi turned and twisted a little more, feeling Atem’s flesh yield to him, and then he took mercy on them both.

Atem whimpered as Yugi left him empty. “It’s just for a second, Atem, just while I get this on.” Yugi was suddenly grateful for that excruciating health class where they all had to roll condoms onto bananas, because now that his hands were definitely shaking a bit, it would have been way harder to get the condom on with no practice at all. He put a generous layer of lube on top and lined up the head of his cock with Atem’s hole. Even after all his stretching it still looked awfully small. He pushed gently, and Atem’s opening spread around him, and then he felt resistance and froze.

“Do it,” Atem begged, “Yugi, _imi-ib,_ please.” Yugi pushed again, and with a slight popping sensation the muscle yielded and the head of his cock was _inside_. Atem muffled another shout in the pillow.

“Ohh _fuck_ that’s tight,” Yugi said through his teeth, clenching his fingers around the base of his cock, trying desperately not to come right then. He’d come once already tonight. They’d worked so hard to get to this point. He was going to _take his time_ with this, dammit! He breathed harshly through his nose and waited for his roiling arousal to simmer down.

Atem was trembling. “Please,” he gasped, “more. I- I need-"

Atem needed him. Somehow that steadied Yugi more than anything else. “I got you,” he soothed, and went deeper in a series of light thrusts. Beyond the entrance the pressure wasn’t so worrying, just a smooth clasp of heat, almost sucking his dick in until he was buried to the hilt. He shifted and leaned over Atem, pressing his chest to his back until he could kiss Atem’s neck. “That’s it, you did it. You have all of me inside. How are you doing?”

Atem turned his head. His eyes were wet, but his mouth was open in an expression Yugi knew meant he was aroused in the extreme. “I can feel you.”

“I’ll bet you can. I’m really deep.” Yugi tried a shallow thrust, barely lifting away before pressing close again. Atem’s eyes fell shut and he moaned. “You like that?”

“Y-yes.”

“You want some more? Want me to fuck you?”

Atem rolled his forehead against the pillow and nodded.

“Get your knees under you, just a bit.” With Atem’s ass higher, Yugi had more room to move. He thrust harder, and Atem quivered. That was pretty good, but he was looking for something specific. He changed his angle and felt himself nudge up against a likely bump, and Atem made a broken noise and ground back against him.

“There we are. Found it again.” Yugi gripped Atem’s hips, and started to roll his own in a rhythm, oddly reminded of the times Téa tried to teach him to dance. He tried to keep aiming for the same spot, keep moving at a steady speed, but it was increasingly difficult with Atem making little breathy moans and rocking back to meet Yugi. His cock was being driven with increasing force into the hottest, softest, tightest place he never could have imagined, and it wasn’t long before Yugi wasn’t in control at all, his hips pumping on their own and his orgasm accelerating in him like an approach to a waterfall.

He just wanted one thing before he went over. He let go of Atem’s hip with one hand and reached around, jacking his cock with the best grip he could manage. Atem threw his head back, crying out softly, “Ah! Ah! Ah, Yugi, it’s too much, I’m going to come!”

“That’s what I want,” Yugi said, voice ragged, body moving so fast his skin was slapping against Atem’s. “Come for me now, with me inside you, with my hands on you, all around you. I want to feel you come- feel you come-" _oh, fuck it,_ “-when you’re mine.” He dug deep and found the strength to thrust even harder, nailing Atem’s sweet spot several times in a row, and Atem’s moans went higher and higher until he sucked in a huge breath and let it all out in a voiceless whoosh of air as he came, cock swelling and twitching in Yugi’s hand, ass pulsing around Yugi’s cock. Yugi drove in one last time and poured out his own orgasm, buried to the hilt in Atem’s body, losing his balance trying to somehow go even deeper and toppling Atem onto his belly.

“Mmngh - ngh - sorry,” he gasped, shuddering as his cock twitched with aftershocks. “Are you okay?”

A worrying pause, then Atem shook his head, but when Yugi started to shift up in a panic Atem reached back and stilled him with a hand on his hip. “Stay.” His voice was a wreck.

“Okay.” He folded himself over Atem’s back, trying to keep as much skin contact as possible without crushing him, but then Atem clumsily knocked his knees out from under him with his legs and pulled his hand up around his chest so that Yugi was crushing him after all. Atem sighed in relief as Yugi’s weight bore down on him, and Yugi started to get an inkling of what he was after. He pulled the covers up over the both of them, determinedly ignoring, for the moment, his oversensitive cock still trapped in Atem’s ass. He would have to pull out before he got fully soft to stop the condom from leaking, but it was okay for a minute more at least.

“I’m here, Atem,” he said, gripping the hand that held his under Atem’s chest, rubbing his shoulder with his free hand. “Whatever you need, just tell me.”

After another long moment Atem said, none too steadily, “I didn’t know - that I could feel like that. That I could feel this _much.”_

Yugi kissed the back of his neck. “I know,” he said, “me too. Hang on for just a second, okay?” He eased his cock free and tossed the condom into the wastebasket, then settled in again, pulling Atem onto his side so Yugi could mold his front more completely to Atem’s back.

Atem whispered something. “What was that?”

“...I very much want to keep you.”

Yugi’s chest hurt. “You’re here at least until you graduate, right?” Atem nodded. “Three years is a long time. A lot can happen.” He hugged Atem tightly, and admitted, “I want to keep you too.”

“...Mana.”

Nobody should ever sound like that, torn apart by love. Yugi took a deep breath. “I should have said, I want to stay with you.”

“I can’t ask you for that.”

“You haven’t.” But Yugi’s heart pounded as he realized his offer was sincere. _Fuck. I really do need to start learning his languages. I don’t think a C in English is going to cut it._ “And anyway, that’s a long way off. Hell, you haven’t even seen my creepy fan collection yet.”

Atem shook with a sudden shocked laugh. “Your what?”

“Notice some holes in the stuff on my walls since the last time you were up here? That’s where I took down all my magazine clippings and printouts with you and Mana on them. And I have so many more I never put up.”

Atem turned over to face Yugi, grinning. “So _that’s_ why you hurried me out of your room the last time I visited.”

“Yep, worried you would run for the hills. I still sort of am.” Yugi was mostly joking to lighten the mood. Mostly.

Atem’s smile softened. “Don’t be embarrassed. I... I had a ‘Yugi Mutou’ file on my computer that fulfilled much the same function.”

“You inspired me to try dueling before Gandora even hatched, when I was all of ten. There was this giant photo of Mana, and there you were on her back.”

Atem groaned. “If it’s the photo I’m thinking of, Muhra has a 2-metre by 3-metre print of it in her pavilion back home. Mana too.”

“Well, you kind of looked like me, and I thought, if he can do it, maybe I can too. And I’ve followed your dueling career ever since.”

“Such as it is. Dueling is less popular back home than it is here.”

“Why do you think that is?”

They talked late into the night, through cleaning up a second time and changing the sheets, sleepily tangling and rearranging their limbs in the warm darkness until they were both drifting off. 

“I would love to show you Egypt,” Atem said sleepily, “take you flying over the desert at night. There’s nothing like it. The stars feel so close you could get lost among them.”

“It sounds beautiful.” Yugi was half-asleep already, in the kind of state where thought and dream blurred together, and it was like Atem’s words became reality as he spoke them. Gandora was wearing the fancy new dress-up lenses Mana gave her, and they soared over sand dunes and under the indigo-and-white riot of space. Atem and Mana, silver in the moonlight, kept pace with them, wheeling opposite them like dancers from Téa’s recital. Atem’s warm chest was under Yugi’s cheek, but he could also feel a dry wind in his face and Gandora’s neck under his legs…

* * *

“They asked for privacy.”

“At the beginning of the night. And this is important!”

“True.” A pop and a creak, and then a faceful of dragon-breath Yugi was all too familiar with from mornings when he was running late for school. He pried open a reluctant eyelid.

Sure enough, Gandora was poking her head through his skylight.

“Gnnhngnaahh,” he complained. It was still dark out.

“Yes, I know, but- why is Atem’s face in your armpit? Is that a mating thing or-"

“It’s a ‘we’re still learning how to sleep in a shared bed’ thing,” he said hurriedly. “Please tell me what’s up before you wake him.”

“Too late,” Atem grumbled, and lifted his head from where it had indeed been mashed into Yugi’s armpit. His face was covered in sleep-wrinkles and flushed on one side, and there was a tiny crust of dried drool at the corner of his mouth. He was bleary-eyed, and his hair was an absolute disaster. Yugi was still painfully attracted to him. Fuck, he was so in love. “What is it?”

“Slifer just called Mana. Mahaad never came home last night.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. Imi-ib: “heart’s desire", beloved. 
> 
> 2\. Give me dirty-talking service top Yugi or give me death tbh
> 
> 3\. And so it was that my very. FIRST. character EVER to NOT be an irresponsible fuckwad re: condoms turned out to be a teenaged boy.


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mahaad don't take no shit from nobody.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: kidnapping, weaksauce interrogation, characters not mentioned by name since Chapter 2 suddenly appear!

“I’m going for a walk in town,” Mahaad told Slifer.

“So late?”

“Can’t sleep. Might visit any shops that are still open; do you want anything?”

“Cumin,” Slifer sighed, “as always. Maybe we should buy it wholesale.”

“It’s worth looking into. For now I’ll buy out any I find. Don’t wait up; you need your rest for tomorrow.” The seniors’ specialty events included a variety of obstacle course duels that Slifer, with his superb flexibility, could expect to do very well on, but only if his reflexes were up to snuff.

Slifer raised a brow ridge. “That’s rich, coming from you.”

“I,” Mahaad said loftily, “am on vacation.”

Slifer chuckled, “Enjoy your vacation walkabout, then.” He was already coiling himself into a spiral for the night.

One store did still have cumin, but the clerk would only sell Mahaad a kilo, saying they needed the rest for their other customers. Maybe they _should_ order it wholesale, like the royal households did back home.

The grocery bag was a diverting weight to swing as he walked, exploring the town after dark, trying to tire his body enough to quiet his brain.

It wasn’t that Mahaad _objected_ to Atem spending the night with Yugi, exactly. They were both old enough to make that decision, and Yugi was sensible and kind, eminently trustworthy. But it was strange to feel the silence in the house and know it was due to his liege and charge (and, truthfully, his best friend) being out doing - that.

And, maybe, it turned his mind to his own empty bed, and certain paths not taken. Choices that he - didn’t regret, exactly, would make the same way all over again if he had to, but _oh,_ not without difficulty...

So absorbed was he in his thoughts that when a car pulled up beside him and someone spoke to him from a rolled-down passenger window, they had to repeat themselves. “Excuse me, Dr. Sahir? Dr. Sahir!”

“Yes?”

“This is a kidnapping. Please step inside the car.” The door opened. The person holding the handle was wearing a Pikachu mask.

He cursed himself. He hadn’t even noticed the masked men approaching from three directions (Charmander, Bulbasaur, and Squirtle), hemming him in beside the car.

“If you know who I am, you know who will take exception to this.”

“That’s why we would prefer to do it as politely as possible.” Pikachu paused, tilting his head like he was listening to a single earpiece. “I am also advised to point out that you may learn more of interest from us than we do from you.” He sounded uncomfortable with this last bit.

Damn. Whoever authorized this really knew him well. Still, he had to be able to tell himself later that he did his best to resist. He swung his grocery bag with all his might and broke the sack of cumin open on Charmander’s head, then sprinted away.

Being tall was not enough to make up for spending most of his time in a lab. The two thugs he hadn’t struck caught up with him in short order, one of them pinning him to his meaty chest, the other (Bulbasaur, so the one behind him must be Squirtle) catching his flailing ankles. He thrashed and shouted, but they’d chosen a deserted street on which to make their move.

Charmander was sitting on the ground, coughing and gagging, his head covered in brown spice. “Break his phone,” he wheezed.

“With what hands? Fuck!” Mahaad sunfished and managed to crack the back of his head into Squirtle’s nose, although all it earned him was a tighter grip around his chest and upper arms, and blood that wasn’t his trickling into his hair. Disgusting.

“Yosuke, get your lazy ass out here and help us!”

“Fine, fine, excuse me for thinking three of you could bring in one six-foot nerd who weighs a buck-thirty tops.” Mahaad glared poisonously as his phone was fished out of his pocket and stomped to pieces on the sidewalk. At least he’d left evidence that something happened here: parts of his phone could be tracked even when it was broken, and there was the blood and the cumin, and footprints of a struggle on the lawn where he was grabbed. He could forgive himself for not fighting anymore once zipties closed around his wrists and ankles and a hood was forced over his head. They manhandled him none-too-gently into the car.

He laughed incredulously when they fastened his seatbelt. “Who is your employer, that you’re this concerned with not damaging me?”

“Don’t know, don’t care. He pays well enough _\- barely -_ to make it worth stinking up our car, lucky for you.” The smell of blood and cumin _was_ overpowering in the confined space.

A faint, tinny electronic babble. “Yessir, he didn’t come as quietly as you said, but we’re on our way now.”

A louder babble. “Yes, unharmed, exactly as specified.”

The ride was very boring, all things considered. The thugs ignored all his questions in favor of nursing their injuries.

Finally the car came to a stop. The driver, Yosuke, said, “Dr. Sahir, if I cut your ankle ties, will you walk quietly or make more trouble? Consider that if there were any risk of being seen we wouldn’t be transporting a hooded man either way, so there is no point trying to make a spectacle.”

Mahaad nodded slowly. “I’ll walk.”

He was steered out of the car, and could hear and smell instantly that he was somewhere near the harbor - probably the warehouse district. The space they entered sounded large enough to strengthen his theory.

The thugs sat him in a chair. One of them started to pull off his hood, but Yosuke said, “The light, remember?”

Someone else - probably Squirtle, judging by how congested he sounded - groaned, “Do we have to? It’s so cheesy.”

“If the customer wants cheesy, the customer gets cheesy.” Yosuke paused. “Uh, no sir, we were talking about, um, a different customer. Yes sir. No sir. We’ll get right on that sir.” There was the sound of a light flicking on, and finally Mahaad’s hood was removed. A weak lightbulb was shining close overhead, so that he couldn’t see anything beyond it.

“You’re right,” he said, “it _is_ cheesy.”

“Right?” said Bulbasaur. “We’re supposed to be professionals, not - ow!” His compatriots elbowed him into silence.

“Shut _up._ Okay, Dr. Sahir, enough chitchat. Who is he?”

“Who is who?”

“The Kul Elna survivor.”

“There’s a Kul Elna survivor?”

“Cut the crap! We know you’re in Japan to meet with him!”

“Well, I am _now._ How old is he? Where in Japan does he live?”

“Now I _know_ you’re playing games with me. All that basic shit is given away in his book.”

“What book?”

A paperback was slapped onto the table. The title screamed, in Arabic, _YOU MISSED ONE!_ The cover image was a brown hand making an obscene gesture.

“We know he’s a teenager. We know he never left Domino for some fuck-stupid reason. We’re pretty sure he’s found himself some kind of dragon sugar-daddy.”

Mahaad shot back, “And _you_ don’t know, but your employer knows, that if this book contains any substantial identifying information on the assassins who massacred the Kul Elnans, it is politically a nuclear missile aimed at certain people who kept their heads down during the coup four years ago. Go ahead, ask your employer if I’m right.”

Yosuke paused while his earpiece babbled, then nodded. Behind the Pikachu mask, Mahaad suspected he was grimacing; he had the posture of a man who no longer thought he was getting paid well enough.

Mahaad pressed the point home. “So, your employer is either here to murder this young man and collect a bounty from said politicians; or to expose him more than he already chose to expose himself, collect a bounty from the gutterslime tabloids, and conveniently pave the way for the assassins who will inevitably follow.” He sat back; he would have folded his arms if he could. “Tell me, why would I help you or your employer do either of these things?”

Yosuke perked up. “Because if you don’t, we sell these photos instead.” He scattered some printouts on the table.

Mahaad peered at them. They were all of Atem and Yugi, mostly at the festival grounds: holding hands, smiling at each other, sharing food and kisses, stumbling disheveled from the Domino dueling team tent. The unguarded affection on their faces hurt his throat; he had to clear it to speak.

“If you had taken these with consent I would have suggested you offer them to Lady Sennen instead. Some are extremely cute.”

“You really - ahchoo! - think so?” asked Charmander, the thug with the head full of cumin.

“Yes. Of course since you _didn’t_ get consent they’re just creepy.”

“Awww.”

Mahaad turned back to Yosuke. It was hard to make eye contact with a Pikachu mask but he did his best. “Regardless, I don’t understand the threat. Violating someone’s privacy is despicable, but how is preventing it worth someone else’s life?”

“Because- because-" Yosuke spluttered, then finally ripped out his earpiece and yelled at it. “No! I’m not repeating that shit! I got a niece at home and I couldn’t look her and her girlfriend in the eyes if I did. You know what? I quit! This job was falsely advertised from beginning to end! And I’m warning everybody I know in the business away from you too!” He threw the earpiece to the ground and stomped on it, creating a distant squeal of feedback - and a muffled curse - from somewhere else in the warehouse. “C’mon boys, this jackass can do his own dirty work. He probably woulda stiffed us anyway.”

“Can I hit this guy for breaking my nose?” asked Squirtle. Yosuke cuffed him in the back of the head.

“Move your ass and don’t ask any more stupid questions.”

The four men in Pokemon masks trooped out of the circle of light, and the warehouse door slammed.

“I tried to tell you,” said a deep voice - a very familiar one.

“Shut up!” snapped a higher, harsher voice - also familiar.

“Odion?”

“...no?” said the first voice, unconvincingly.

Mahaad switched to Coptic - a great language for sounding severe - and said, “Odion Ishtar, what kind of moronic scheme has your idiot brother dragged you into now?”

“Hey!” Yes, that other voice was definitely Marik Ishtar.

A sigh, and Odion entered the light. “Journalism only, I swear. Or at least it was supposed to be, until this recent foray into abduction and attempted extortion, which I only learned about when I walked in here. I’m extremely disappointed in him.”

“Odiooon!” Marik came forward as well, to punch ineffectually at Odion’s massive shoulder.

“Marik, did you hear yourself? The threats you told that man to make? You… you sounded like Dad.”

“Odion…” _Now_ Marik sounded chastened. Mahaad wondered what that was about. He knew their parents were divorced and that all three Ishtars lived with their mother, but he’d never pried, never wanted to overstep his bounds with -

“Is Ishizu here too?”

“Probably, somewhere,” muttered Marik. “She and Odion never let me have any fun.”

“You call this _fun?!”_ The lights of the warehouse proper blazed to life overhead. Ishizu Ishtar strode forth in all her glory, a vision in simple white and tasteful gold. The months apart had only made her more beautiful - that and the rage crackling in her eyes.

“Ishizu,” he breathed, and the sealed longing in his heart cracked free, and spread its wings, and roared.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. Mahaad is canonically both that tall and that skinny (he’s drawn a lot beefier but the art in Yugioh is, to put it kindly, not known for consistent quality).


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ishizu *also* don't take no shit from nobody.

“Mahaad,” said Ishizu, “are you alright?”

He nodded vaguely, wide-eyed. Poor man had sustained a number of shocks to his system tonight. “Oh,” he said, as if remembering, “my hands are tied.”

“Gods!” She kept a small knife in her purse, and got the plastic zipties off in short order. He rubbed his wrists. “Let me see.”

That was a miscalculation. Ill-used as he was, he still offered his hands up to her immediately, like a supplicant, and it heated her blood. She bit her lip as she took his hands: long-fingered and slightly knobby-knuckled, tendons and veins standing out in sharp relief, beautifully expressive male hands, resting so quietly in her own small ones. She forced herself to focus. His wrists were bruised and mildly abraded, but nothing serious. She rubbed them anyway, wishing to comfort him.

“I’m sorry this happened.”

“It’s not your fault,” he said quickly.

“No,” she agreed, turning to the table, “it isn’t.” She took in the Kul Elna survivor’s explosive book, and the surveillance photos of Lord Sennen with a Japanese boy of a similar age. “This is that boy you mentioned in your emails? Yugi?”

“Yes. They’ve been an official couple for just over a week.” He hesitated, then said, “Marik tried to use these photos as leverage to extract information about the Kul Elnan boy. He thinks I know his identity.”

“Do you?”

He looked away. “I’ve been very focused on my postdoc, neglecting the news. I just learned he, and this book, existed tonight.”

“That’s not a no.”

He glanced at Marik. Ishizu’s wayward little brother was having a furious conversation on his phone and wasn’t even looking at them. Mahaad flicked his gaze up to Ishizu again and murmured, lips barely moving, “I think I’ve met him. I’m not certain, but it would explain some things.”

“We need to make contact with him, to offer him additional protection against the inevitable threats to come. Not all of them will be redirected as easily as Marik. Our country failed his people so shamefully; we can’t let the remaining villains finish the job.”

“I will let you make that pitch to him, once we get out of here,” he said, looking at her like he always did: like the sun, moon, and stars hung in her eyes. It made her ache.

A new voice cackled in Japanese, “Oh _ho!_ So, the lab rat has human appetites after all!” Ishizu stared up at a boy who seemed to have materialized on top of a stack of crates. He leered down at her. “And I must say, he has _exquisite_ taste.”

“Ishizu!” Odion ran up, putting himself between her and the intruder.

Even Marik demanded, “What is this?”

The boy jumped to the ground, landing soft as a cat. “This?” he echoed. He produced a whole bulb of raw garlic from the pocket of his ridiculous silky bathrobe - the only thing he wore aside from a pair of tiny shorts - and crunched into it. “S’a rescue,” he said cheerily, spraying pungent flecks.

Mahaad pinched the bridge of his nose. “Bakura, meet Odion, Ishizu, and Marik Ishtar. Ishtars, this is Bakura.”

 _Bakura._ There were Bakuras on the list of Kul Elnan dead. And the boy was as brown as everyone else in this gathering; in fact he looked darker, due to the contrast of his shocking white-blond hair - even lighter than Marik’s flax. She looked sidelong at Mahaad, who met her gaze and nodded minutely.

Mahaad had said, ‘it would explain some things.’ Perhaps what he meant was the lone remnant of a brutal precision genocide reacting by becoming an appalling gremlin child.

Said gremlin looked them all up and down quickly, insouciant grin not reaching his eyes. “So, a family of kidnappers?”

“I think the fuck _not!”_ said Marik indignantly. “These goody-two-shoes? No, I acted alone. Well, aside from my investor and my worthless erstwhile employees.”

Ishizu snapped, “Would you stop acting like it’s something to be proud of? You endangered the life of the only witness to Egypt's worst atrocity of our generation, by way of kidnapping and attempted extortion with homophobic threats!”

“Oh my, you _have_ been a bad little rich boy,” Bakura purred. “By any chance is that your pretty little yacht in the harbor?”  

Marik’s eyes widened. “Uh.”

There came an unholy _boom_ from outside. Bakura chuckled. “I say ‘is’, but I think ‘was’ is about to be more correct.” His smile was now definitely much more a baring of teeth. “You see, while I wouldn’t call Professor Scarecrow here a _friend_ , his dragon is definitely friends with both my landlord and a hot-tempered young lady who may be familiar to you lot. And, like me, dragons tend to think snatching people in the night is _not on.”_  

Another _boom._ Marik bolted for the dockside door of the warehouse. When Ishizu and the others caught up with him, he was staring out at the harbor, both hands fisted in his hair.

A huge, wingless dragon, unfamiliar to Ishizu, was using a massive jet of water to lift up a small yacht, presumably the one Odion had said Marik was using to zip around the coastline of Japan. As it rose, Princess Mana trained a steady stream of Ra-fire on the ruins of the hull. Just as the jet appeared to reach its limit, Slifer swooped in and fired a shockwave, the _boom_ they had heard from inside. This sent the yacht spiraling further out into the harbor, to be lifted up for the cycle of abuse to start again. It was an oddly playful picture in the early morning light, if one ignored the sheer destructive power on display.

“You see,” said Bakura with great relish, “while winged dragons have a sense of smell somewhat weaker than a dog’s, wingless ones have a sense of smell somewhat weaker than a _shark’s._ My landlord tracked Mahaad to here, and then he connected that boat to someone inside this building. It seems to have become the target for some venting of aggression.”

Another cycle and the yacht shattered completely, the pieces sinking beneath the waves. Marik made a shrill noise, the whites of his eyes showing all around.

“Was it good for you?” Bakura cooed.

“It was _rented.”_

 _“Marik,”_ Odion groaned.

“There they are!” shouted a new voice. A half-dozen new people pelted up the dock, Lord Sennen - Atem - considerably in the lead. He flung his arms around Mahaad’s chest, squeezing so hard Ishizu thought she could hear his ribs creak.

“Mahaad,” he choked.

Mahaad hugged him back. “I was never more than annoyed and inconvenienced, Atem. Oof!” Three more teenagers saw fit to dogpile onto him: the boy Yugi from the photos, a blond boy, and a girl.

“We were so scared, Mahaad, what _happened?”_ piped Yugi.

“Kisara and Kaiba found the bits of your phone,” said the girl.

The blond boy chimed in with, “and then Ryou said you drew blood in a _spice fight?”_

Ishizu stared. Mahaad tried to shrug with his arms pinned. “Slifer asked me to pick up cumin,” he coughed from the bottom of the pile. “I thought it wise to make a scene with whatever was available.”

“You certainly managed that,” said Atem. “But what did they want? How did you get away?” He looked around for the first time and did a double-take. “Why are our Ishtar cousins here?”

“Spare me the ‘cousin’ crap,” sneered Marik. “Our family trees may share a few grafts at the root but I have no _family_ obligations to you, _milord.”_

Atem rolled his eyes. “I’ve asked you many times not to call me that.” He sounded tired. A lot of people sounded tired when dealing with Marik.

“He’s just butthurt because dragons blew up his boat,” said Bakura.

“But Ryou said that boat belonged to the - Marik? Did you have Mahaad kidnapped?”

“Ding-ding-ding-ding, we have a winner!” Bakura took another bite of garlic.

_“Why?”_

“A simple case of misjudged connections,” Mahaad said quickly. “He thought I knew a particular author, but the only people I know in Japan are geneticists, biochemists, and duelists.”

“Oi!” said the girl, “and dancers!”

Bakura squared his shoulders. “And one author.”

The blond boy snorted. “Come off it, Bakura. Everyone knows you can’t read.”

Bakura leapt for the boy’s throat, roaring, “You’re fucking dead, Wheeler!”  

“Zing! Totally worth it - ow! Ow! Tristan, save me!”

“I don’t think so, dude,” drawled a black middleweight dragon who Ishizu only now noticed on the roof of the warehouse, alongside a slightly smaller black middleweight, a feathered lightweight, and a white heavyweight with two riders. “That was a low blow; you need to take your licks.”

“Marik is messing with me, Odion is standing around looking disapproving, Ishizu and Mahaad are making cow eyes at each other,” Atem complained (Ishizu and Mahaad hastily broke the intense eye contact they had, in fact, been making). “All I need is Cousin Seth looming up to make it like I never actually left home.”

Marik flinched. “Actually.”

_“Seriously?”_

“You’re the ones who assumed it was a tabloid paying for information! _I_ never said that!”

“Is he _here?”_

“He’s here,” said Seth from the doorway of the warehouse, “and he could not be less pleased about how his loan to his ‘cousin’ has been squandered.”

The Japanese contingent stared open-mouthed.

“Okay, that’s creepy,” said the girl. Ishizu was inclined to agree on principle - Seth _could_ be kind of a creep - but how would someone know that at first glance?

“Uh, guys?” said Yugi. “Why is there an Egyptian version of Kaiba suddenly?”


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the author scratches that fix-it itch with a more appropriate response to Kul Elna than we got in canon.

A couple of hours later, Joey slurped up the last of his milkshake and said, “So, here’s what I still don’t get. How come all youse guys speak Japanese?”

When demands for explanations started flying fast and furious, they’d retreated from the docks to get them all answered more privately. The Egyptians unanimously insisted that their rocket-fuel black tea was required (Joey had tried it - _once_ , the morning after they hosted game night, and it needed so much sugar you could stand a spoon straight up) and the Japanese insisted on breakfast. Joey and Yugi teamed up to vote for takeout from Burger World. So now they were all back up at Mana’s place (not the pavilion-house but her actual pavilion, the only place with enough room for all the humans, dragons poking their heads in from outside), surrounded by mugs and fast-food wrappers and more mugs.

To answer Joey’s question, Marik scowled and jerked a thumb at his sister. “Because of _her.”_

“I’m a student of history,” said Ishizu, somehow still looking like a scary-hot librarian, even holding an egg sandwich in greasy paper and a mug with a cat’s butt on it. “Tunin-Ra Princesses always study abroad in their early years; it offsets territorial urges that can become awkward if they remain too close to their mothers.”

“True,” said Mana.

“And the country they choose has a formative influence on the Sunrise Court they establish when they return.”

“As opposed to Mother’s Sunset Court,” Mana explained in response to Joey’s blank look. “This is my first century, and her last. It’s a transitional time.”

Ishizu concluded, “Anyone who thinks they might want to be useful in the future Sunrise Court would do well to learn the language of that country, in order to better communicate with the foreign nationals the Princess invariably brings back with her.”

“She can do dat? Even nowadays with, you know, immigration and shit?”

“I - like Mother - retain the traditional right to designate Priests-at-Arms. The status functions like an Egyptian citizenship, though it is revocable and comes with some obligations.”

“What kind of obligations?” asked Yugi.

“More practical than ritual. All I do is change the title to Servant-at-Arms and Mahaad and Slifer can fulfill the role with no conflict of interest, even as observant Muslims.”

Mahaad fidgeted. “Not every person who calls themself a Muslim would agree with that, but I do.”

Yugi looked at Atem. “Are you a Priest-at-Arms?”

Now it was Atem’s turn to fidget. “Technically, I’m the _High_ Priest-at-Arms.” Yugi grinned and whispered something in Atem’s ear that made said ear turn bright red. The two of them were so grossly in love. Joey couldn’t get enough of it.

“Oh!” exclaimed the big guy - Odion Ishtar. “There’s a thought!” He set down his mug of tea and turned to face Mana. “Your Highness, would you consider designating us? Myself, Ishizu, and Marik?”

Mana blinked. “Marik waylaid and threatened Mahaad, my Rafiq's Second and a dear friend. Why would I grant him a favor like that?”

“So that we may pay our family’s moral debt - and Marik may pay the financial debt of that destroyed yacht - by staying in Japan and working as additional protection for Bakura. Marik in particular would be a suitable body-double, with their similar coloring.”

Marik jerked. “Hey!” Joey could see it, honestly. They even had equally demented fashion sense: Marik’s current shirt was a sleeveless lavender crop top with a hood. Joey’s eyes hurt just looking at the stupid thing. It was exactly the kind of crap Bakura wore whenever he was out of uniform (during the day, anyway - Joey could have happily gone his whole life without knowing the guy slept in booty shorts).

Odion stared Marik down. His eyes were an eery light brown - almost golden. “What was it you said to me? You wanted to do something real? Be where the action is? There is about to be plenty of action right here.” Marik broke eye contact first, but he looked to Mana and nodded.

Mana said, “I won’t make a decision immediately, but you’ve given me a lot to think about. It’s definitely an interesting proposal.”

“Regardless,” said Ishizu, “I intend to stay even if you choose not to designate us, Your Highness. Bakura.” She turned to where Bakura was slouched against a wall in the corner of the pavilion. He scowled at the ground, but he didn’t flee - and Bakura was slippery as an eel and _fast_ , so he could have fled if he wanted. “All of us here were powerless to stop what happened to your village, to your family, and to you, but we have inherited the weight of it. Furthermore, we _do_ have the power to influence what happens next, now that you have told your story. I intend to do what I can to protect you, and I will be more effective if I have your assent and cooperation.”

“Are you sure you’re not staying so you can take up again with your _boyfriend?”_

Ishizu didn’t even blink. “Yes, I am sure. Mahaad and I might have that conversation, but I didn’t come with him before now; my studies were more important. However, this is more important still.” It was like - like she was a mountain on the inside, or something. She had so much dignity and conviction that other people’s actions were irrelevant; attempts to bring her down broke on her like water. Joey felt out the edges of a burgeoning new crush with resignation. Too bad he was so much younger - and that there was clearly something going on between her and Mahaad.

Bakura - who was, like, the opposite of dignity, dignity antimatter - could only bear a single glance at her face. He grumbled, “Then you’ll do whatever the fuck you want, I guess. Old man is in charge of moves; talk to him.” He jerked a thumb at Ryou.

“I still don’t get how Brown Seto fits into all this,” protested Mokuba.

“I financed Marik’s little misadventure, more fool me. I was _trying,”_ Seth glared at Marik (Joey broke out into goosebumps over how he glared _exactly_ like Kaiba - Kaiba couldn’t even look at the guy, and Joey couldn’t blame him), “to _discreetly_ meet the author of _You Missed One_ and ask him if it was all true. Particularly the sketches of the men he saw during the massacre.”

Bakura stalked up to Seth and poked him in the chest. “The whole thing is a goddamn sworn affidavit. The sketches are by a police artist. I spent a week in a psych ward after we got them perfect.”

Joey choked. “That week you were gone, early last year? You told everyone you were in juvie!”

“Shut the fuck up, Wheeler,” he snarled without turning around. “Why are you asking about the sketches?”

Seth was ashen under his tan. “Because…”

“Holy shit,” Bakura whispered. “You know who they are. You fucking know who they _fucking_ are!” He grabbed Seth’s shirt in his fists like he would find a way to lift him even with the seven inches Seth had on him. “Who are they?!” He was all but screaming now.

“I don’t know their names, but I’ve seen some of them before,” Seth blurted. “Meeting with… meeting with my father.”

There was dead silence in the pavilion for at least a minute before Atem got up and stalked out. Yugi reached out a hand like he wanted to follow, but Mahaad said gently, “Give him a minute, Yugi. Seth’s and Atem’s fathers are brothers. If Aknadin is involved, it’s possible Aknamkanon is somehow involved as well.”

“For what it’s worth, I never saw Uncle Aknamkanon with them. I should probably tell him that.” Seth followed Atem outside.

Marik said into the silence, “I thought having one up on the golden boys would feel better than this.”

Joey snorted. “You really are an idiot, huh? The Bad Dads Club is the shittiest club.” He glanced at Bakura. “Or, well, maybe not the _shittiest,_ but uniquely shitty all the same.”

* * *

Yugi stood up. “You said give him a minute. It’s been a minute.”

Atem was sitting on the grass at the highest point of the hill, back to Domino, looking out to sea; Seth was leaning against a tree, facing the same way. Atem had Bakura’s book closed in his lap. Yugi sat down gingerly next to him.

“I don’t recognize any of the faces,” Atem said without looking at him, “but that doesn’t mean much. Father has always been less - hands-on, than Uncle.”

 _“I_ think he knows nothing, or next to nothing,” said Seth. “We won’t find out for sure until we ask, but we need some kind of incentive for them to tell the truth when we do.” He beat his head back against the tree. “But I have no idea how to get that incentive.”

“We do,” said Kisara. The whole crowd had assembled behind them. “My boys and I personally defeated their stepfather - my patron - and his entire cabal of war criminals. We can help you plan to do the same.”

Joey said, “I know a thing or two about fightin’, and Tristan navigated one of the dirtiest police precincts around and survived. We can help too.”

Ishizu said, “I am already committed to the cause, and my brothers will help however they can. We are well-acquainted with the… less-illustrious side of the royal family.”

“It can’t be backstabbier than professional ballet,” said Kujaku. “The whole thing sounds _juicy._ I’m in.”

“Gross, Kujaku,” said Téa. “I’m in because you’re my friends, and because it’s the right thing to do.”

Gandora nodded. “Same.” Yugi squeezed Atem’s hand, and was relieved when he squeezed back.

Bakura looked bewildered. “I know you would do this for Atem; he’s your friend. But why would you do this for me?”

“You’re our friend too, Bakura,” said Yugi. “And even if you weren’t, it would be wrong to do nothing.”

Mahaad nodded. “Gravely wrong, a most serious offense before Allah.”

Marik sighed. “And counter to Ma’at. Not one word,” he warned Odion and Ishizu, who looked fit to burst with pride.

Atem blazed at them all, his affection and his stern pride merged into a passion that people would follow to the ends of the earth. It took Yugi’s breath away. “Thank you all. With your help, anything is possible.”

Bakura squinted at him. “And of that ‘anything,’ what is it you intend to do?”

Atem ticked off his fingers. “Keep you safe. Expose my uncle. Expose his co-conspirators, possibly-" he gulped, “including my father. Bring them to justice - of some sort, somehow.” He looked at Mana. “Am I missing anything?”

Mana cocked her head in thought, then smashed her tail against the ground as her head shot up. “The tournament! It’s barely mid-morning; if we hurry we can still make most of Mokuba's and Slifer’s events!”

“Mahaad? Are you up for that?” asked Slifer.

Mahaad held out his hand in midair and looked at it. It was steady. “I’ve had enough tea to kill a small horse. Might as well do something with it.”

“Well then, to battle!”

“Uh, four of us are NOT paired with dragons,” Marik pointed out.

“You can ride with me on Ryou, sweetcheeks,” laughed Bakura. “If you’re going to be my decoy sometimes, you need to learn to not fall off or get seasick.”

“Ishizu can ride with me,” said Mahaad, “we have a lot to talk about.”

“You’re with us, Seth,” said Kisara.

“Odion, come with me,” said Mana.

Odion shook his head, looking green. “Heights still aren’t my favorite, Your Highness. I’ll take my chances with seasickness on Ryou, if there’s room.”

“Hmm,” said Ryou, “this _will_ be interesting.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. Oh hi, I’ll take a double order of fix-it for canon’s beaten-down dogsbody Odion? Thanks. He can love and protect his brother and still hold him accountable.
> 
> 2\. Ma’at: both a goddess and a concept of order/truth/harmony.


	20. Chapter 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Draconic Dynasty has its roots in not taking kindly to people being erased.

_-Djeser-Djeseru, 1425 BC (_ _Year 54, III Peret day 30 of the reign of Thutmose III)-_

The workman placed the chisel at the edge of the cartouche and raised his hammer, but both fell from his nerveless hands before he made even a single strike.

“I can’t,” he quavered, “I can’t do it. She was _Pharaoh!_ The gods would strike me down!”

Amenhotep loomed over him. _“I_ will strike you down, fool!”

The workman closed his eyes. “The Prince Regent will of course do as he sees fit. But this one thinks it is better to die faithful in this life, than to arrive faithless in the next.”

Amenhotep backhanded the man so hard he fell to the ground. “Witless worm! Crawl out of my sight!” He didn’t even watch him leave, knowing it would bring him no pleasure. “Gods, spare me from superstitious palace artisans,” he seethed. Perhaps he should have brought some of those worthless foreign servants instead; they might at least do as they were told. Should he go back and collect some? …No. No, not even Hatshepsut deserved that. She should be nameless, like all women, but she had still been of Kemet; no subhuman foreign hands would do the necessary erasing.

“It seems I must do everything myself,” he declared, and took up the hammer and chisel. The assembled craftsmen exclaimed in horror as the sound of tapping began to echo around the grounds of the Djeser-Djeseru.

The wall was limestone, like most of the temple, and gave way with relative ease - especially because Amenhotep was not trying to be delicate. He had barely broken a sweat before the last part of the cartouche crumbled to dust at his feet. He moved away from the wall and the general perturbed murmur spiked to cries of alarm.

“See!” he crowed, “I am not struck down! She was no Pharaoh, but a usurper and a pretender! We are righting a great wrong against Ma’at by erasing her name and face from places they do not belong! We will continue by cleansing this temple, a design to which that woman had _no_ right, and- SILENCE!” he roared, whirling around to glare at those who had not stopped shouting while he was making his speech, only to see that not only was the crowd not being silent, but they were not paying any attention to him at all! Instead, they were facing away, pointing into the sky. Some were even fleeing.

Amenhotep put a hand to his forehead, cursing the crown that stopped him from wearing something with a proper brim, and squinted against the glare. Finally he made out the cause of the commotion: a glittering golden form, distant now but growing rapidly.

“Ra! Ra! The Ra-Dragon is coming!” cried the assembled workers.

“What could the King’s Companion want with the Prince Regent?” Amenhotep asked himself. “Why would she leave Father’s bedside? Unless…” he caught his breath. Perhaps the day had finally arrived!

He had been raised in Inbu-Hedj, not in Waset; he was not acclimated to the sight of the Ra-Dragon at any time, but she was particularly impressive approaching from the air, the vast sweep of her wings blinding in the sun. But even he could tell there was something off about her profile, some vertical protrusion…

“The Ra-Dragon wears the Lens of War!” moaned some sharp-eyed unfortunate. Several more men broke and ran.

It was true: the Ra-Dragon bore on her back the enormous array of mirrors and glass that would give her a second stream of Ra-fire, even more inexhaustible than the one Amenhotep had heard came from her mouth, not that he had ever witnessed either himself.

She landed just far enough away to not collide with the nearest workers, but no farther; they parted for her like reeds as she walked up to the wall of the Djeser-Djeseru. It gave Amenhotep gooseflesh to watch her gait: like a crocodile but not, like a lion but not - dragons walked like dragons, and like no other creature, and the Ra-Dragon was ten times the size of any other dragon Amenhotep had ever seen, including several among the soldiers gathered here today. All of these were genuflected flat on the ground, draconic submission to her sheer size and the display of her wealth. With every step, her regalia of beaded netting and jeweled chains swayed and jingled. It was said that half the value of Thutmose III’s plunder from a lifetime of conquest hung on the body of his Companion, and that that was the safest half.

There was the tiny form of a human perched among all that splendor: a woman. Amenhotep’s eyes narrowed as he recognized Tiaa, his half-sister and betrothed. She was usually so silent and respectful; it was unlike her to be so forward as to involve herself in royal affairs, and most unbefitting the woman who would be his wife _(not_ his Queen, as he had told her, it was high time to do away with Queens). Perhaps the great lizard had dragged her along to be present for the announcement - the only possible announcement that would see the King’s Companion leave her vigil at the palace.

At last her unhurried approach brought her to the steps before the wall. “The Pharaoh, King Thutmose III, is dead,” said the Ra-Dragon. “I, the Sixth Dragon of Ra, bring this news.”

Amenhotep drew his first easy breath in weeks. “Then I am Pharaoh.”

The dragon lifted her massive, bejeweled head to the vertical, looking down her snout at Amenhotep. _“I_ declare the Pharaoh, by the will and power of Ra,” she said sternly.

He waved his hand and muttered, “Yes, of course.”

She went on. “I did not love Thutmose half as well as he deserved, given that he was the only one left who loved my Queen, the great Pharaoh Hatshepsut, half as much as I.”

Amenhotep could not contain himself at that outrageousness. “That woman was no Pharaoh!” he exploded, “and you will not speak of her as such while you serve _me,_ beast! She was a mere co-regent putting on airs, the personification of everything wrong with Kemet today!”

The dragon growled, a rumble felt in the earth more than heard in the ears, and it occurred to Amenhotep that he should perhaps be more diplomatic in the presence of his conduit to the gods. “So it is no rumour, then, that you are here to erase her name and portraits from her own mortuary temple?”

“See for yourself.” Amenhotep was still holding the hammer and chisel, and waved them at the ragged hole where Hatshepsut’s cartouche - imagine, having the gall to put _her_ name in a cartouche! - was until just now. “The gods made you singular and self-creating, so perhaps you cannot understand, but the natural order for humans is that men should lead, and women should follow and obey. Hatshepsut’s blasphemous ‘reign’ was a perversion of the natural order, one that I am setting right. You will see. Your next two hundred years will be so much better than your first.”

“It is my observation that the natural order is for humans, wise and foolish, kind and wicked, generous and selfish, all, to have lives as brief and bright as butterflies.” The Ra-Dragon sounded unutterably weary and sad; she had already lived four times longer than the most venerable humans Amenhotep had ever heard of, and would live just as long again. He could scarcely conceive of it.

Her tone sharpened as she continued. “I have witnessed the reign of thirty-nine Pharaohs in the two hundred and twenty-five years since my hatching; six since the passing of the Fifth Ra-Dragon in the great conflagration that secured Ahmose’s victory over the Hyksos colonizers. Hatshepsut was the best of them, and you, Amenhotep II, look to be one of the worst. I will not be declaring you Pharaoh today.”

“What!” Amenhotep screamed. “Then who?”

“Myself.”

_“What!”_

“I was already sick of the people of Kemet suffering the roll of the dice every few years, waiting to see what sort of leader each Pharaoh turned out to be for their tiny allotted span. And your behaviour, Amenhotep, has tipped the scale. Erasing the name and achievements of your grandmother. Disrespecting your neighbours. Seeking to beat down half the humans within the borders of your kingdom. It cannot be borne!”

Clinging to the obscene wealth draped over the Ra-Dragon’s back, there was a light in Tiaa’s face that Amenhotep had never seen before, and immediately despised. It seemed treacherous snakes both great and small would always seek to form a nest together. He would try to kill her if he did not have more immediate concerns.

“Vile serpent!” he cried. “You can’t do this! You can’t just declare yourself Pharaoh and make it so!”

“You’re right,” she said. “One must then follow through by _being_ Pharaoh. Including protecting Kemet from its enemies.” She turned her head. “Prepare the lens,” she ordered Tiaa.

To the assembled workmen and soldiers, she said, “Make haste one mile from this point, then shield your eyes.” To a man, they turned their backs and ran; the several dragons hastily took to the air. The Ra-Dragon raised her voice behind them, “You will witness the first act of the new Pharaoh, Queen Ra-Dragon VI: visiting the fury of Ra on one who shall be nameless, who dared desecrate the Djeser-Djeseru.”

She turned her amber gaze back to Amenhotep, and lowered her voice as much as any dragon could. “There will never be another King. Your father was the last. The daughter I bear in a hundred years shall be Queen when I am gone, and her daughter after her, in an unbroken line until the end of Kemet itself. Each of them will tell the next the story of why we rule in Hatshepsut’s name, and none of them will say yours. I particularly want that to be on your mind as you die.”

Amenhotep’s shaking fists clenched; his rage was with him to the last, even as everything else fell apart around him. “Petty,” he hissed. “It’s as I thought: you’re no more a god than I am.”

She cocked her head, for all the world like a gargantuan hunting hawk. “Maybe. But I have an advantage you don’t.”

“What’s that? Flight? Fire? Longevity?”

She gaped a toothy reptilian smile at him as she spread her wings and lifted into the air. “I’m not a little bitch.”

“What does that even mean-" But he never got an answer, because she smiled wider, and a searing white light materialized in her mouth and streaked toward him.

* * *

“Ten degrees to the left.”

Tiaa’s arms ached as she heaved on the levers of the Lens of War. At first, using it had been thrilling, watching the ground touched by its disc of focused light smoke and flare and melt into slag, like she was a second source of Ra-fire. But now she was tiring rapidly.

“Look down, little one. Do you see any missed spots?” The mile the Ra-Dragon - the _Pharaoh_ \- had advised Amenhotep’s entourage to flee was now a desolation of black glass, with a single strip of bare ground running down the centre: a road for pilgrims who wished to visit the Djeser-Djeseru.

“I don’t, Your Majesty.”

“Neither do I. I suppose we had better head back to the palace. Hatshepsut’s boy still needs to be mummified.” Tiaa reeled to hear Thutmose III, the great general, referred to as anyone’s ‘boy’. “Close up the Lens.”

As the Pharaoh flew back to Waset, she said casually, “You did very well today, Tiaa, telling me where that man was and what he was up to. It created the perfect opportunity for me.”

“Not just for you,” she said. “I did not want to marry him.” Royals married their siblings and half-siblings all the time, but Amenhotep had vacillated between cruelty and indifference in a way that terrified her. The idea of lying with him had made her physically ill.

“And you took to the use of the Lens like a trained flight-warrior.”

“I sincerely hope that training can make one’s arms feel less like they’re about to fall off.”

The Pharaoh’s bark of laughter sounded rusty, like she hadn’t laughed in a long time. “He wanted to abolish giving women titles, even writing down their names. That’s reason enough for me to want to start dispensing titles right and left. How would you like to be a Priestess-at-Arms?”

“I would like that very much!”

“As well, I’ve been thinking: I was meant to be the human Pharaoh’s connection to the gods. What _I_ need is a connection to humanity, so that I am not tempted to solve all my problems by burning a mile of glass around them.”

“Your Majesty?”

“How about my old title: Queen’s Companion?”

Tiaa thought, then said slowly, “It’s certainly a better title than Widow of the Little Bitch.”

This time the Pharaoh laughed long and hard. Tiaa found herself snickering too. A few more minutes of the wind in her face, and she thought to ask, “Your Majesty? What should I call you?” Did she even _have_ a personal name?

“Oh. Miut.”

“Your name is _Kitty?!”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>   1. Kemet: Egypt
>   2. Inbu-Hedj: Memphis
>   3. Waset: Thebes
>   4. Reasons I agree with the theory that it was Amenhotep II, rather than Thutmose III, who defaced Hatshepsut’s monuments:
>     * Thutmose III served as the head of his stepmother Hatshepsut’s entire military, and he was GOOD at it; historians call him “the Napoleon of Egypt”. She wasn’t stupid; she wouldn’t have given him that kind of power if he hated her. And if he hated her he would have just killed her, not served her loyally for decades then pulled some little bitch stunt like scratching her name off her stuff long after her death. Oh also he chose to be buried RIGHT next door to where she was buried, and not in a more impressive temple either. Whereas...
>     * Amenhotep II WAS a little bitch. We’ve got him on record being a racist ass (literally writing to people bitching them out for recommending professionals who weren’t native-born Egyptians), and a sexist ass (not only did he grant no titles to women, he wouldn’t even let their _names_ be written down, not even his own wife - we only know Tiaa because her _son_ wrote her name down). He tried to say _he_ was the builder of a bunch of Hatshepsut’s stuff. Like I’m writing him as an utter fuckboy here but the only embellishment is the dragon. 
>     * I don’t know about you, but one of these men sounds like a much better candidate for an almighty dick-punching (by dragon-fire) than the other. 
>   5. If you got all the way to Chapter 20 of this thing without realizing it’s all just a 600-lb round bale of id-fic then idk what to tell you my dude. And turns out my id wants a fuckboy fried extra-crispy.   
> 
>   6. Fun fact: a dragon being so enraged by the attempted erasure of Hatshepsut that she seized the throne of Egypt in perpetuity was the founding idea of this whole AU! That and the first kiss in Chapter 13 :-D  
> 
>   
>  



	21. Chapter 21

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Atem came to Domino to train as a duelist. He found so much more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One last kick at the smut can in this chapter!

_-Domino City, 2016-_

“Y’know,” said Bakura, “you’ve kinda ruined my life.” He had somehow acquired ovals of fried dough during the last two minutes of walking, and tore into one now, scattering sugar everywhere.

Atem raised an eyebrow. “Oh?” Cheeks bulging, Bakura offered him a piece of dough. “No thank you.” Just looking at it made his teeth hurt.

Bakura chewed, swallowed, and said, “My house is full of Ishtars, only one of whom I want to bone. They’ve been there less than twenty-four hours and your buddy Mahaad has ‘happened to stop by’ _twice_ to moon over Ishizu.”

“Yes,” Atem said fondly, “he’s like that whenever they’re in the same city.”

“Which makes Odion look even more constipated than every time Marik changes into a new tarted-up outfit.”

Atem winced. “Are you sure it’s not every time the two of you are horrible and provoking?” Odion had called Atem up last night; apparently Marik’s spasm of humility had lasted about eight hours before he switched back to one-upmanship, this time in the category of flirting.

 _“There are two of them now,”_ Odion had said, sounding haunted.

Bakura cackled. “If that gets big brother bunged-up, he’d better start buying stock in prunes!”

 _“Ugh.”_ He’d advised Odion to confide in Ryou, the only other person he knew with as much experience trying to rein in someone so outrageous. “Well, I apologize for disrupting your luxurious bachelor solitude by placing your protection detail close enough to actually do something. I just thought you’d prefer it to being a corpse.”

“The jury’s still out.” They reached the duelling grounds, completing the handoff between Ryou (on fire rescue standby/Shinto patron duty until the end of the tournament) and Marik. “Dimples!”

Marik did actually have dimples, Atem remembered with mild horror. He hadn’t seen them since they were small and Marik was winning over some royal auntie or other with his cherubic face. “Ready for day two with a bodyguard,” he shot a gleeful look at Atem, “‘Thief King’?”

“You can guard my body _anytime,”_ Bakura drawled. He handed Marik some fried dough and crammed the final piece into his mouth as they walked off without a backward glance.

“You look like you have indigestion,” Yugi said when Atem arrived at the Domino tent.

“I sympathize with Odion, I really do. Bakura and Marik together are - potent.”

“Potently rotten, you mean,” said Joey, scrubbing at a fleck of clay on Tristan’s harness.

“Be nice,” said Téa, “Bakura’s had a really hard time.”

“Dat’s no call to give all of _us_ a hard time. Heh. Hehehe. Maybe we’ll get a break once he starts giving _Marik_ a hard-"

“Joey!” Yugi snapped.

“Lala _la_ lalala, I can’t hear you,” Atem sang with his hands over his ears. Childish or not, the thought of his awful cousin doing - anything, really, in that vein - could not be borne.

“Whatever. You and Mana ready to get your asses kicked?”

“You’re very sure of yourself,” Atem teased.

“It _is_ the 4K equalizer finals up first, babe,” said Yugi. “Heavyweights are at a disadvantage because they can’t be on a team.”

“Because they’re given as many lifepoints as two middleweights. I’m aware. The category was almost tailor-made for Gandora and Tristan.”

“Wouldn’t it be tailor-made for a team of four lightweights?” asked Téa.

“They can’t take a lot of hits, and friendly fire can become an issue,” said Yugi. “It’s a very high-risk strategy.”

“Yep. Two middleweights is the sweet spot. And then when it’s _us,_ well.” Joey kissed his fingertips then flicked them outward.

“Nevertheless, Mana and I intend to give it our all.” Atem hefted Mana’s harness in one hand and a duffle bag of supplies in the other. He pecked Yugi on the lips. “See you out there.”

Their reaction when they saw Mana on the field half an hour later was most gratifying.

“Mana, what did you do?” Gandora exclaimed. “Did you have Atem _polish_ you?”

“My eyes!” Tristan groaned. “I can’t look straight at her!”

Mana shrugged. “I don’t know why you’re so surprised. I looked like this the first day we arrived in Domino.” The duffle bag had contained a spray wand and a gallon of scale oil. Mana looked like she was composed of golden mercury. It was especially effective on a bright morning like this one. “And, well, we get competitive.”

Yugi narrowed his eyes. “How is the glare not going to compromise your own ability to shoot?”

With a fat smile, Atem donned a pair of polarized sunglasses.

“Ohh,” Joey fumed, “it is _on!”_

If everyone was hamming it up a bit, well, they were not about to call each other on it. Atem spent a solid hour last night with his head under Yugi’s shirt, face buried in his warm, flat belly, trying to remember how to breathe. They were up against so much, and they were so few, and there was no one they could ask for help who wasn’t either potentially compromised, like the authorities, or so close to the situation that they couldn’t be alerted without risking the enemy getting away, like Muhra and Mother. When Atem stopped to think about it for too long he felt like he had an elephant sitting on his chest.

It was Yugi who helped him find his centre again. _“You don’t have to have all the answers right now,”_ he’d said, and, _“You’re not doing this alone. We’ll take it one step at a time, all of us together.”_ Atem was very close to setting up a recurring offering in Hathor’s name, to thank Her for sending him one of Her blessed children to light the way, for Atem to cherish and to know himself in an entirely new way in the process.

And for him to play with. His grin sharpened and he leapt up into Mana’s harness like a sailor swarming into the rigging of a tall ship. “Just as you say, Joey. Let’s duel!”

The match was long and intense, pushing Mana and Atem to their limits. Without the trick of oiling Mana’s scales they would have inexorably fallen behind and been defeated; with it, they were just about able to give as good as they got, the glare throwing off Joey's and Yugi's aims so as many shots went wide as connected. But half the shots that did connect came with the telltale silver dot of one of Yugi’s beacons, a subtle countdown to Gandora’s devastating finisher. Atem found himself watching Gandora’s and Tristan’s relative positions, bracing for the moment Tristan would move to cover Gandora as she set up.

Because he was watching so carefully, he caught the hand signal Yugi sent Joey - the one Joey returned. They didn’t immediately change their pattern of attack, but Atem could see where they were going to converge and lock into their spiraling dive - The Wheeler.

“Mana,” he shouted, “they’re going to fire Gandora’s lenses below us.”

Mana cursed. “We can’t out-dive them.”

“But if you turn sharply to hide me while I transfer to your front, I’ll have a clear shot below they won’t be expecting.”

“Be careful!” Mana started flying down herself - not at the same steep angle as Gandora and Tristan, just losing altitude passively as she put all the force of her great wings into forward acceleration. Atem transferred his carabiners so he would already be halfway to the frontal position when he started to move.

Tristan and Gandora started to level off, Tristan above. “Now!” Atem shouted, and Mana banked sharply, reversing direction, as Atem slid around her neck.

Just as Tristan peeled off out of Gandora’s line of fire, Atem clipped in below Mana’s chest, brought his rifle to bear, and trained it on Yugi. Yugi froze for a critical second when he saw Atem, and Atem took the opportunity and fired. Gandora’s mesh flickered out completely.

“Direct hit!” crowed Mana. Yugi shook his fist good-naturedly and took Gandora in for a landing, calling his beacons back to their dock.

“There’s still Tristan and Joey,” said Atem.

“Their mesh is half-gone,” said Mana, “ours too, but we can take twice as many hits.”

“All the more reason to be cautious.”

“All the more reason for them to be reckless. Here they come!” Sure enough, Tristan and Joey had gone high to try for a shot at Atem, who was of course safe below. Now they strafed tightly overhead, Joey peppering Mana’s back and wings with shots. Mana rolled sideways to decrease her profile, force Tristan to pull up, and give Atem a clear shot. He landed three, and Tristan’s mesh went nearly dark, but Mana’s wasn’t in much better shape. Both of them were probably down to double digit lifepoints.

“One more hit should do it - or do us in.”

“Now or never! Come up the left when I bank again.” Mana started to chase Tristan down. She banked when Tristan rose up, and Atem fired from the cover of her massive neck. But Tristan didn’t turn; he swooped all the way to the vertical and came back towards them _upside-down,_ Joey screaming and training fire from a position that left him horribly exposed, but with excellent access, _but_ trying to shoot while upside-down.

It was a gamble, but this time it didn’t pay off. Atem breathed out, squeezed the trigger, and landed two more clean hits. Tristan’s mesh went dark, and Joey’s rifle went dead. It was over.

“That was _awesome!”_ Joey shouted as they descended. “I can’t believe you guys pulled that off!”

Atem felt giddy; he could hardly believe it himself. “What can I say? It helps to train with the best!”

“I’ll say!”

Yugi barrelled into him the moment Atem’s feet touched the ground, thumping him back against Mana’s side, plucking away his sunglasses, and kissing him soundly.

“That,” he announced, “was just about the hottest thing I’ve ever seen.”

“Hey,” pouted Joey, “it took two pairs to pull off that little drama. Where’s my kiss?” Gandora, Mana, and Tristan all licked him at once. “Gahhh, no!” He threw himself down, trying to rub the saliva off onto the grass. “Gross, gross, gross!”

“We’ll have to make sure we stick around for the awards ceremony tonight,” said Yugi, “but for now we have a couple of hours until our next event.” He looked at Atem and waggled his eyebrows. “What do you say we get out of here for a little while? I know a nice spot not far away that I’d like to show you.”

“Lead on,” Atem said, suddenly breathless.

 _“I_ know a nice smokehouse booth I’ve been wanting to show myself,” Joey announced. “Pulled pork sandwich, here I come!” Tristan ambled off with him, making hopeful noises about brisket.

They mounted up again, and Yugi and Gandora led Atem and Mana away from the festival grounds and a couple of minutes up the coast, to a wild clearing at the top of a cliff. After Yugi and Atem disembarked Gandora said, “Mana, come see the beach with me, this way,” and they flew off.

Atem found himself being kissed again, backed into a tree trunk this time. Yugi was warm and firm, fitting perfectly into Atem’s hands, sweetly aggressive and utterly intoxicating. “What’s gotten into you?” he gasped as Yugi started nipping and sucking at his neck.

“You,” said Yugi, “or so I’m hoping, anyway.”

Atem shuddered as he grasped Yugi’s meaning. “You want me to-"

“Fuck me,” Yugi finished for him, “yeah, I do. Specifically, I thought maybe I could ride you.”

Atem was seized by the image of himself splayed out, Yugi pinning him down and taking his pleasure above him. He felt a deep surge of arousal in his core as his body got with Yugi’s program. “I think maybe you could,” he tried to say as lightly as possible, but the way his hips bucked against Yugi revealed how turned-on he was by the idea.

Yugi chuckled. “Okay, well, we’re both wearing way too many clothes.” That was remedied easily enough, and when Atem got his head free from his shirt it was to see Yugi spreading out a blanket. “Where did that come from?”

Yugi winked. “I stashed it here early this morning. There’s food too, but I figured we could eat after.” Naked and hard, skin dappled in sunlight filtering through the trees, he knelt on the blanket and held out a hand. “C’mere.” Atem had never seen anything more inviting.

Yugi’s bare skin was wonderfully warm against his own as they knelt facing each other, kissing some more as their hands roamed. Yugi pulled his head back a little, breathing open-mouthed even as his tongue brushed Atem’s, so that their breath mingled as well, and then their voices when Yugi ground their cocks together.

“Much more of that and I might not be available for riding,” Atem said unsteadily.

Yugi bit his lip. “There’s so much I want, all at once.”

“It’s like you keep telling me: one thing at a time. We have time.”

“Right. Right. And the thing I want right now is - yeah.” Yugi reached for his pants and fished out a couple of foil packets, then gently pushed Atem back until he was lying on the blanket. The lumpy ground beneath it dug into his back, but he wasn’t about to complain, because Yugi sat down on his hips then and Atem could not see or feel anything else in the universe.

Yugi’s legs were supple and strong from all the riding he did, and gripped Atem between his thighs with the same confidence. There was a satisfaction and an intensity on his face that was also similar to when he was competing - though much more tender. “This is a good look for you.”

“Likewise.” Atem stroked his hands up and down Yugi’s slender body, almost golden in the forest-light. Yugi could still drive him wild just by undoing one extra button on a shirt, but it turned out being naked together was - something else. Another world. An embarrassment of riches. Judging by the unfocused way Yugi’s hands wandered over Atem’s torso, Yugi felt much the same way in return, and it was shocking and thrilling for Atem to find that he could please his lover like this, could be wanted, could be _sexy._

“Focus,” Yugi muttered to himself, “stick to the plan.”

“I mean, only if the plan is what you want.”

Yugi looked down at Atem’s cock, rubbing against Yugi’s, and his eyes darkened further. “Oh, I want. The way you went crazy with me in you two nights ago? It’s my turn.”

“Fair enough.” Atem felt dizzy just _remembering_ how Yugi had fucked him, the night before everything changed. It felt like Yugi had taken him apart and then put him back together - still himself, but different, stronger, like Yugi had reinforced him somehow, left a buttress made of himself inside Atem. He didn’t think he could offer Yugi the same kind of - of control, but that didn’t seem to be what Yugi was after. The positions might be different, but their energy felt the same as before: Yugi keeping Atem where he wanted him, taking him _how_ he wanted him.

Or, well, he _would_ be taking him in a minute. Right now he was rocking their dicks together in aimless little stutters of his hips, as his fingers worked behind him and his eyes roved hungrily over Atem’s body. “God, this is gonna feel so good.”

“To you or to me?” Atem felt a flicker of nonsensical jealousy; he knew just how good Yugi’s slim, clever fingers felt, just how skillfully they slid around, probing and stretching.

“Both.” Yugi grinned. “Sex is amazing like that.” He rose up on his knees and shuffled a little further up Atem’s body, then caught up one of Atem’s hands from his hips and guided it behind him, urging him wordlessly to slip a finger in beside Yugi’s. Everything was so slick with lube that his finger was coated instantly, and he stroked in and bit his lip at the shocking intimacy of it, pressing their fingers together inside Yugi’s body, his hole stretched so tight around them.

“Fuck, I think I’m ready. I can’t wait anymore anyway.” Yugi bit his lip as he pulled his fingers out and reached for the condom.

“You made me wait,” Atem pointed out.

“I wouldn’t have been able to feel if I hurt you,” Yugi argued, holding Atem’s cock firmly and rolling the sleeve of latex onto it. Still holding on, he levered himself up and started to sit down on the head. “Nngh, _fuck!”_

“Don’t hurt yourself either!” Atem clutched worriedly at Yugi’s hips.

“I’m not,” Yugi gasped, “it doesn’t, it’s just - a lot.” He looked down at Atem and there was something cracked-open in his expression, a vulnerability Atem knew all about from the other side. “I’ve got you.”

“You do, _imi-ib_.” Atem stroked gentling hands on Yugi’s flanks as he rose and fell in tiny increments, gliding a little farther on every pass, working himself open. He had worried that he would lose control, watching Yugi do this and feeling him squeeze around Atem’s cock - and it did feel good, amazingly, heart-poundingly good - but there was too much suspense to lose himself yet.

At last Yugi sank down all the way, resting his full weight on Atem’s hips with a loud sigh as he took Atem as deep as he could go. He looked as astonished as Atem felt. “Holy fuck that’s deep,” he said, “I can really, mm, hha, really _feel_ you, you know?”

“I know,” Atem gritted. Yugi tried a little flex, shifted his weight in place, and Atem’s mouth fell open in a gasp. “Ah!”

“I felt you twitch,” Yugi said smugly. “Wow, you’re really _in_ me.” He rose up and sank back down, then did it again, faster. “That’s so- uh! That’s so hot.”

“Yugi,” Atem said helplessly. He didn’t have Yugi’s ability to keep stringing words together when extremely aroused. He tried to say it with his hands instead, stroking and squeezing everywhere he could reach, from Yugi’s hard cock - drooling so much precome that a thick string connected the head of it to Atem’s abdomen - to his nipples, already pebbled and swiftly becoming little blushing thorns under Atem’s touch. “So beautiful, Yugi.”

Yugi’s cheeks reddened further - a truly gorgeous picture, with his shining eyes and open mouth, his hair flying and his body flexing as he rode Atem’s cock. Atem tried to fix the sight in his mind and heart, to let it carve a place in his memory forever.

“Ungh, fuck, this is so good,” Yugi grunted, _“you’re_ being so good, laid out like this, just for me, letting me- f-fuck! Letting me use you.”

Atem groaned. Yugi wouldn’t be able to use him indefinitely if he kept saying things like that, giving voice to the way things were between them, this shimmering exchange of something essential and almost beyond words. Atem wanted to be good _for_ Yugi, and Yugi wanted to be good _to_ Atem. How extraordinary that they fit together so perfectly! How wonderful that they had found each other!

...He really, really wasn’t going to last.

Desperately, he spread his fingers to rub both Yugi’s nipples with one hand, and started jacking his cock with the other. Yugi stuttered in his rhythm and stared down at him.

“I can’t - can’t hold on much longer, Yugi!” he rasped.

Yugi patted his hand where it splayed against his chest, grinding clumsily down onto Atem’s cock. “Long fingers,” he said vaguely, and then he was coming, his whole body tightening into an upright bow, his head falling back as he shouted, streaking Atem’s belly and chest with his release.

It was Yugi’s full-throated yell echoing off the trees that sent Atem over the edge after him. _That must be why he was so keen to have sex all the way out here,_ he thought, and did not hold back his own ragged cry as he swelled and spurted inside Yugi.

“Oh. My. God.” Yugi crumpled onto Atem’s chest, lavishing kisses all over his neck and then his mouth, tonguing him slow and sloppy and lazy. “That was _fantastic._ Three cheers for summer! I’ll be treasuring _that_ memory when we have to be quiet all winter.”

“Three cheers for blankets,” Atem chuckled. “I’ll remember that trick if we ever try this - um, anywhere with sand.”

Yugi hummed and climbed off to deal with the unpleasantness of the condom. When he returned he tucked himself against Atem’s side, playing idly with his chest hair. After a long minute he asked, “Do you think Bakura will have to testify in Egypt?”

“Unlikely. The Kul Elnans were stripped of their citizenship when they were exiled; they were citizens of Japan when they were assassinated in Japan.” He squeezed Yugi’s shoulder and hoped his grip wasn’t painfully tight. “What we _might_ have to do, is collect the assassins personally and bring them back here. Since no one else seems to be doing so.”

“Hmm. I guess-" Yugi hesitated.

“What?”

“Well. I don’t like to think about it, I don’t want things to go this way, but - if we have to. If we _have_ to, to protect others. It’s maybe good that so many of us - you, me, Joey, Mahaad, the Kaibas - we’re all just a few real weapons away from being aviators.” Yugi rolled to look up at the sky, tracing out dragon flight paths with his hands. “We’re no match for, like, bombs, or fighter jets, but just about anything short of that we can take in a fight. If we have to.”

Atem felt a chill as he remembered that Hathor contains Sekhmet, that red-muzzled lioness, ferocious and nigh-unstoppable. “‘To every thing there is a season, and a time to every purpose under heaven’,” he quoted somberly.

“What’s that from?”

“Ecclesiastes. All friends of Mahaad are eventually browbeaten into reading all the Abrahamic holy books.”

Yugi dug the heels of his hands into his eyes. “God, we are such a pack of absolute fucking nerds. Look out bad guys, here we come!”

“I would choose you, and our friends - even my terrible cousins - by my side over any army.”

Yugi turned in his arms again and kissed him. “Yeah,” he said, “me too.”

* * *

_-Luxor, 24 hours later-_

Aknadin made a few more noncommittal, encouraging noises into his phone, then hung up.

“Seth is staying too. All of our children have now announced plans to stay in Japan for the next several years.”

“The Ishtars I can understand,” said Aknamkanon. “Osorsen is a brute, and any excuse to increase their distance from him must seem like a good one. But why would Seth stay?”

“Isn’t it obvious, brother? The Princess is forming the Sunrise Court early.”

“To what end?” Aknamkanon wondered sarcastically.  “What matter of great import to Egypt could be transpiring in Japan as we speak?”

“Don't be obtuse. You know very well it’s somehow connected to that ridiculous book that came out last month.”  

“Ridiculous? I found it very powerful. Surely the guilty parties must feel the jaws of Ammit closing around their hearts as we speak.” Aknadin could not hold his gaze for long. “Should I be feeling them close around _my_ heart, brother?”

“If you really think you know the answer to that, then why are you speaking to _me?”_

“Because I am hoping I am wrong! Aknadin, what did I help you do four years ago? Who did I aid? If I had met them then, would I meet them again today in the pages of that book?” Four years ago, the only thing Aknamkanon knew was that Aknadin’s secret dealings ran counter to the interests of the Pharaoh. With his only child screaming in the burn ward, delirious with pain when he wasn’t delirious with medicated nightmares, that had been all he cared to know. Now his bitter little gesture of revenge tasted like the ashes of a village in his mouth.

“You did not have the courage to ask those questions then, when it mattered; do not pretend you have the courage to face the answers now, when it does not. For love, I will not answer. For love, do not ask again.”

“Aknadin!” But his brother strode away.

Aknamkanon turned his back to the setting sun, trying to warm himself in the last of its feeble rays. After a moment, he realized that meant he was facing north and east, toward his son - his odd, little, fierce-eyed son, who smelled constantly of dragons.

“Is this why you looked at me strangely in your video call to me and Kema yesterday?” he murmured. “Do you know something? Do you already know more than me? It wouldn’t be hard. Oh, my boy, be careful. I’ve never succeeded in helping you how I hoped.”

He turned to follow his brother, but it was pointless; he was long-lost in the crowd, and even if he wasn’t there was nothing he could compel from him. He turned toward home, and thought about confessing to the goddess that dwelt there - and to Her Majesty - and quailed, knowing himself to be insufficient to the task. At last he turned and walked toward the Temple District, where there were gods he could bear to face. He would make offerings of repentance for himself and offerings of protection for his son. Aknamkanon felt his story was soon to end in darkness, but perhaps Atem’s could still end in the light.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>   1. Sekhmet: a warrior goddess, alter ego of Hathor.
>   2. Ecclesiastes 3:1, to be exact.
>   3. Ammit: crocodile chimera in the underworld, devourer of the hearts of the unjust. 
>   4. [This art](http://celepom.tumblr.com/post/177466459547/the-return-of-atem-the-human-cat) was not made for the scene where Atem buries his face under Yugi's shirt (nor the scene for the art), but coincidentally illustrates it almost perfectly; just turn that smile upside-down and you've got Atem having last night's freakout.
>   5. OH. MY. GLOB. It’s finished! I’ve been writing this monstrosity for 2.5 months, and I’ve been living my best life the whole time: rubbing the few but enthusiastic comments on every chapter all over my body and using their power to fuel more writing; not killing myself with writing marathons when I should be sleeping; absolutely WALLOWING in Egyptian everything, soft boys fucking hard, and DRAGONS. 
>   6. Special thanks to [Celepom](http://celepom.tumblr.com/) and [Skyisthelimit112](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skyisthelimit112/pseuds/Skyisthelimit112) for letting me yell my ideas at them until they gelled into something worth telling, and also to Sky for letting me know I accidentally posted Chapter 16 out of order! 
>   7. And thank you again to everyone who has commented or will comment; your interaction is what makes posting these stories worth it *heartsheartshearts* and this story in particular owes its completion to the encouragement of those who took a chance on it while it was a WIP. 
>   8. There might be a sequel! Or at least an outtakes reel and/or a small spinoff. Idk about a proper sequel; I have continued the grand Yugioh tradition of biting off WAY more than I can chew, conceptually. But first, there is a more canon-adjacent version of my puzzlesons waiting patiently for me in the Duat :-D 
> 



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